MOLLY  AND  I 

OR 

THE  SILVER  RING 


FRANK  R.  ADAMS 


MOLLY  AND  I 

OB 

THE  SILVER  RING 


"Uncle  Sam,  I  love  you." 


MOLLY  AND  I 

OB 

THE  SILVER  RING 


BY 

FRANK  R.  ADAMS 

AUTHOR  OF  "FIVE  FRIDAYS" 


ILLUSTRATED   BY   FRANK   GODWIN 


BOSTON 
SMALL,  MAYNARD   &  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1915 
BY  SMALL,  MAYNAHD  &  COMPANY 

(iJfCOBPOBATED) 


THE  UNIVERSITY   PRESS,   CAMBRIDGE,   XT.  8.  A. 


THIS  BOOK 

LIKE  MY  HEART  AND  HAND,  BELONGS  TO 

A.  L.  A. 

WITHOUT   WHOM    MOLLY   WOULD 
NEVES  HAVE  EXISTED 


2229126 


THE  SILVER  RING 

The  silver  ring  so  dear  that  once  thou  gavest  me, 
Fast  in  its  tiny  circlet  our  vows  yet  encloses : 

The  confidant  of  many  fond  mem'ries  of  thee, 
Alone,  in  hours  of  sorrow,  my  heart  it  composes. 

A  ribbon  such  as  binds  a  nosegay  sweet  of  roses 

Still  the  flowers  entwines,  tho'  faded  they  may  be; 
So  this  poor  silver  ring,  that  once  thou  gavest  me, 
Fast  in  its  tiny  circlet  our  vows  yet  encloses. 

So  when,  forgetting  all,  my  heart  at  length  reposes 
In  the  last  home  that  nevermore  my  eye  shall  see, 

When  I  shall  lie  asleep,  all  pale  amid  the  roses, 
I  will  that  on  my  withering  finger  there  be 
The  silver  ring  so  dear  that  once  thou  gavest  me. 

Song  by  C.  CHAMINADE 
English  Version  by  Dr.  Thomas  Baker 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  MARRIAGES  ARE  NOT  ALL  MADE  IN 

HEAVEN 15 

II  FOR  THAT  MATTER,  NEITHER  ARE 

WILLS 24 

III  THE  STORY  OF  THE  FAIRY  QUEEN  WHO 

HAD  A  WOODEN  LEG 37 

IV  A  SILVER  WEDDING  RING 51 

!  i ,  V  INTRODUCING  A  VAMPIRE 63 

VI  A  STRANGE  SEA  SPELL 76 

VII  AN    APARTMENT    SCARCELY    LARGE 

ENOUGH   FOR   ONE 91 

VIII   Is  NOT  LARGE  ENOUGH  FOR  Two  .    .     106 

IX  NOT  EVEN  IF  ONE  Is  A  VERY  SMALL 

GIRL  .....' 119 

X    So   THE   GlRL  WILL   HAVE   TO   LEAVE  .       132 

XI  THE  STRANGE  TALE  OF   THE  BALD- 
HEADED  MERMAID 153 

XII  LATER  BULLETIN  :  THE  MAN  HAS  TO 

LEAVE 167 

XIII  THE  APARTMENT  is  DISCOVERED  TO 

BE  LARGE  ENOUGH  FOR  Two  .    .     189 

XIV  AN  ADDITION  TO  THE  FAMILY  197 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 
XV  Two  LADIES  DISCOVER  THE  EXIST- 
ENCE OF  EACH  OTHER 210 

XVI  THE  COST  OF  LIVING 219 

XVII  HABITS  OF  THE  HEN 236 

XVIII  THE  APARTMENT  is  CROWDED     .    .  243 

XIX    BUT   SUDDENLY   BECOMES  LONELY   .  258 

XX  AND  THEN  DESOLATE 266 

XXI  Is  ANYTHING  AKIN  TO  LOVE  ? .    .    .  273 
XXII  A  MAN'S  IDEAL  is  SHATTERED  ;  AND 

A  WOMAN'S  HEART 279 

XXHI  A  VAMPIRE  TURNS  OUT  TO  BE  ONLY 

A  WOMAN 285 

XXIV  A  GENTLEMAN  LEARNS  A  FEW  THINGS 

ABOUT  HIS  WIFE 298 

XXV  A  BACHELOR  APARTMENT  BECOMES 

THE  HOME  OF  A  FAMILY  .  305 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 
"Uncle  Sam,  I  love  you!" Frontispiece 

Mrs.  Sutherland  shot  Philip  a  glance  from 
practised  eyes  that  brought  him  down, 
literally  speaking,  to  a  position  beside 
her 66 

"  As  a  photographer,  Phil,"  said  Jack,  sotto 

voce,"you're  a  great  success'*.    ...      134 

"  If  you  ever  discover  that  you  don't  care  for 
him  so  much,  —  oh,  please,  please,  send 
him  to  me"  297 


PART  I 


MOLLY  AND  I 

CHAPTER  I 

MARRIAGES  ARE  NOT  ALL  MADE  IN  HEAVEN 


blind  man  reached  for  his  revolver. 
It  was  gone.  And  yet  not  thirty 
seconds  before,  he  had  laid  it  on  the  table 
before  him. 

As  far  as  he  knew  he  was  alone  in  the 
room.  One  usually  is  when  one  contem- 
plates the  long  lane  that  has  no  returning. 

First  a  feeling  of  terror  assailed  him, 
then  anger  that  he  had  been  interfered 
with,  and  finally  shame  at  having  a  fellow 
human  being  see  him  in  the  depths  to 
which  he  had  fallen. 

"  Well,  "  he  said  finally,  in  an  even  mono- 
tone, "  what  is  it  all  about?  Who  are  you?  " 

"My  name  doesn't  really  matter,  does 
it?" 


16  MOLLY  AND  I 

A  voice  answered  him,  a  woman's  voice, 
rather  strained  with  excitement. 

The  blind  man  rose  awkwardly.  He 
was  thin  and  very  tall,  too  tall  for  the 
room  or  for  the  furniture  in  it. 

"No,"  he  replied,  after  reflection. 
"Nothing  really  matters  to  me  except 
that  you  have  taken  away  the  only  piece 
of  property  that  I  had  left  in  the  world. 
I  spent  my  last  cent  for  it  and  I  haven't 
the  means  to  buy  another.  What  right 
have  you  to  strip  me  of  my  last  posses- 
sion?" 

"The  right  of  might,"  the  woman's 
voice  answered.  She  stood,  he  judged, 
just  inside  the  door.  "You  can't  help 
yourself  and  I'm  sure  you  won't  call  in 
the  police  to  make  me  return  what  I  have 
taken." 

He  bowed  his  head  in  token  of  surrender. 

"You  have  the  drop  on  me,"  he  ad- 
mitted. "Won't  you  come  in  and  close 


NOT  ALL  MADE  IN  HEAVEN    17 

the  door,   miss,   or  is  it  madam?     You 
needn't  answer.     As  you  suggested  a  while 
ago,  it  doesn't  matter.     Now  that  you've 
got  me,  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  me? 
It  is  only  justice  to  tell  you  that  I  am  a 
very  fragile  antique  and  will  only  do  for 
an  ornament.     My  days  of  usefulness  are 
past.     What  are  you  going  to  do  with  me?' 
"I  want  to  talk  first." 
"All  right.     I  can  still  do  that." 
"Aren't  you  just  a  little  ashamed  of 
feeling  the  way  you  do?     Don't  you  think 
you  are  a  wee  bit  cowardly?" 

"Not  cowardly  now,  but  I  think  I  will 
be  if  I  have  to  go  through  twenty-four 
hours  more  of  this  fearful  night,  knowing 
that  it  is  never  going  to  lift.  I  have  just 
come  from  the  office  of  the  most  eminent 
eye  specialist  in  New  York.  He  cannot 
help  me.  I  am  a  writer.  I  made  a  bare 
living  by  using  my  eyes  until  I  used  them 
up.  I  went  blind  this  morning.  Think 


18  MOLLY  AND  I 

if  you   can  what   that  would    mean   to 

you/' 

"Is  there  no  hope?" 

"None  for  me.  The  doctor  said  that 
there  is  a  Swiss  surgeon  who  does  some- 
thing to  eyes  like  mine  and  once  in  a  while 
he  saves  a  pair,  but  he  is  out  of  the  ques- 
tion for  me.  I  haven't  even  money 
enough  to  pay  my  fare  over  on  a  cattle 
boat.  Believe  me  if  you  can  when  I  tell 
you  I  have  argued  it  all  out  to  myself.  If 
I  go  on,  merely  existing,  it  is  only  a  matter 
of  a  very  short  time  till  I  shall  have  to 
make  an  exit  in  a  mean  and  degraded 
fashion.  To-day  I  am  in  the  possession 
of  all  my  faculties,  to-morrow  or  next  week 
I  shall  be  a  cringing,  cowering  weakling, 
afraid  and  lonesome  in  this  darkness  that 
no  one  can  share.  Blindness  breaks  down 
a  man's  moral  courage.  I'm  not  brave 
enough  to  face  it."  He  paused.  "Now 
you've  made  it  even  more  difficult.  You've 


NOT  ALL  MADE   IN  HEAVEN    19 

made  me  feel  desperately  in  the  wrong 
before  another  human  being.  You  found 
me  out.  No  one  else  in  all  the  world  knew 
what  I  was,  knew  that  I  was  down  and  out 
—  no  use  to  anyone,  including  myself." 

"That  is  the  point  I  wish  to  bring  up. 
You  have  no  right  to  do  what  you  intended 
without  thinking  of  others." 

"There  isn't  anyone  —  anyone  whom  I 
could  benefit  in  the  slightest  degree." 

"That's  where  you  are  mistaken.  You 
can  help  me." 

:'You  will  pardon  me  if  I  allow  an  ex- 
pression of  dismay  to  cross  my  features, 
thus."  He  paused,  smiling,  with  an  ex- 
pression that  was  anything  but  dismay. 
"Don't  tell  me  you  are  a  long-lost  relative? 
Haven't  I  trouble  enough?  No?  Then 
I  shall  assume  a  puzzled  look  and  ask 
politely,  'How  can  I  be  of  service  to 

you?'" 

"I  thought  you  were  like  that." 


20  MOLLY  AND  I 

"What  did  you  say?"  he  demanded. 

"Nothing  at  all.  I  was  wondering  if  I 
dared  ask  you  what  I  had  in  mind." 

"Surely.  Speak  right  out.  My  first 
impression  was  that  your  nerve  was  pretty 
good.  What  can  I  do  for  you?" 

"Marry  me." 

Stunned  silence  fell  upon  the  man. 
Then  he  laughed,  not  bitterly,  but  whole- 
somely and  heartily.  "This  is  so  —  un- 
expected," he  demurred.  "Explain  fur- 
ther. What  is  the  plot?  How  did  I  come 
to  fascinate  you  so  much  that  you  sug- 
gest yourself  as  a  substitute  for  annihi- 
lation?" 

"I  am  quite  serious,  Mr.  Smith." 

"Oh,  you  know  my  name  do  you?" 

:'Yes.  I  know  your  first  name  is 
Philip,  too.  I  always  liked  that  name." 

"Always  liked  it?  Have  we  met  be- 
fore?" Philip  Smith  groped  desperately 
in  a  mental  chaos  to  connect  the  voice  he 


NOT  ALL  MADE  IN  HEAVEN    21 

was  listening  to  with  some  other  charac- 
teristics of  form  and  feature. 

"Surely,  we've  met.  Once  you  even 
danced  with  me." 

"It  must  have  been  a  long  time  ago. 
I  haven't  been  attending  many  balls 
lately." 

"It  was  —  you  were  twenty  and  I  was 
twelve  but  I  made  up  my  mind  then 
that  I'd  marry  you  the  very  first  chance 
I  got." 

"I  can't  place  you,"  he  confessed. 

"  No?  I  remember  that  at  the  time  you 
didn't  seem  as  enthusiastic  about  me  as  I 
was  about  you." 

"I  am  truly  sorry  you  delayed  your  - 
he  started  to  say  "proposal"  and  changed 
suddenly  — "your  proposition  until  I  have 
ceased  to  be  available  as  husband  material. 
If  you  knew  me  ten  years  ago  you  may 
recollect  that  my  family  fortune  vanished 
in  a  night  and,  as  I  have  just  explained  to 


22  MOLLY  AND  I 

you,  my  personal  earning  capacity  has 
just  been  blotted  out  with  my  eyesight." 

"  Not  if  you  marry  me.  I  know  it  sounds 
terribly  cruel  to  say  but  the  fact  that  you 
are  blind  is  the  thing  that  makes  you  most 
desirable  as  a  husband." 

"Great  Scott,"  he  ejaculated,  "are  you 
as  bad  as  all  that?" 

"No,  I'm  not  as  bad  as  all  that,"  she 
mimicked.  "Now  if  you'll  promise  not 
to  interrupt  I'd  like  to  lay  this  heavy  re- 
volver down  and  tell  my  story." 

"Certainly.  I'd  draw  up  a  chair  for 
you  if  I  were  quite  certain  where  the  fur- 
niture in  this  room  is.  You  see  I've  been 
blind  such  a  short  time,  and  Mrs.  Jeffrey, 
that's  my  landlady,  does  provide  such  a 
knobby  assortment  of  furniture  with  her 
hall-bedrooms.  I'm  sure  there's  another 
seat  though,  somewhere." 

He  heard  her  draw  up  a  chair  and  as  she 
sat  down  near  him  the  faintest  odor  of  a 


NOT  ALL  MADE  IN  HEAVEN    23 

delicate  perfume  assailed  his  nostrils.  A 
heavy  thud  told  of  the  revolver's  being 
dropped  on  the  table.  He  judged  by 
the  sound  that  she  had  placed  it  on  his 
left.  He  sank  down  again  into  his  own 
chair. 


CHAPTER  II 


FOR  THAT  MATTER,  NEITHER  ARE  WILLS 


OHE  did  not  begin  talking  at  once.  He 
felt  that  she  was  studying  him  and  he 
was  acutely  conscious  of  his  gaunt,  heavily 
lined  face.  When  last  he  had  seen  him- 
self his  features  had  been  those  of  an  old 
man.  How  much  worse  they  must  look 
now  that  the  eyes  had  ceased  to  animate 
the  mask! 

The  girl  began: 

"In  the  first  place,  I  am  an  orphan  and 
I  have  always  lived  with  my  aunt  Lavinia. 
Now  do  you  remember  me?  No?  It 
doesn't  matter.  She  was  very  wealthy 
and  when  she  died  last  year  she  left  all 
her  money  to  me  on  condition  that  I  marry 
on  or  before  November  21,  1912,  which 


NEITHER  ARE  WILLS         25 

you  probably  know  is  to-morrow.  What 
do  you  think  of  that?" 

"I  should  say  that  you  had  been  reading 
too  much  popular  fiction.  The  idea  of 
an  heiress  who  must  be  married  by  a  cer- 
tain time  in  order  to  get  her  legacy  is  old 
stuff,  —  it  has  been  worked  to  death.  I 
tried  it  once  myself  in  a  novel,  but  the 
publishers  said  I  stole  the  plot  from  the 
'Arabian  Nights.'" 

"But  you'll  do  it,  won't  you?" 

"There  was  a  time  not  so  long  ago  when 
I  seriously  considered  the  idea  of  marrying 
a  wealthy  woman,  but  I  decided  against 
it.  I'd  rather  be  an  honest  failure  under 
my  own  banner  than  live  in  affluence  on 
somebody  else's  money.  I've  seen  too 
many  of  that  type." 

"This  is  a  little  different.  There  is 
some  more  to  this  plot  I  haven't  explained 
yet.  I  am  not  asking  you  to  share  my 
fortune  with  me.  I  merely  want  you  to 


26  MOLLY  AND  I 

do  me  a  certain  definite  service,  that  is, 
go  through  the  marriage  service  with  me, 
for  which  I  will  make  you  a  reasonable 
payment.  Within  a  year  I  expect  to  get 
a  divorce." 

"Yes,  that  is  quite  conventional.  But 
why  pick  me  out  for  the  honor?  Why 
not  choose  some  man  from  your  immedi- 
ate circle  of  friends?" 

"One  reason  is  because  I  happen  to  be 
engaged  to  one  of  them  and  everybody 
knows  it." 

Philip  Smith  tried  to  comprehend  this 
statement.  "Then  why  not  marry  the 
one  you  are  engaged  to?"  he  blurted  out, 
finally. 

"Because,  please  sir,"  she  apologized 
meekly,  "he's  out  exploring  at  the  North 
Pole.  He  has  been  gone  two  years  and 
won't  be  back  until  next  fall  anyway." 

"Oh!" 

"Doctor  Allen,  —  he's  the  specialist  you 


NEITHER  ARE  WILLS         27 

went  to  about  your  eyes,  —  is  my  legal 
guardian.  He  and  I  were  making  ar- 
rangements for  my  wedding  when  that 
messenger-boy  led  you  in." 

"Making  arrangements?"  he  echoed. 

"Yes,  we  wrote  an  advertisement  to 
send  to  all  the  morning  papers  offering 
$1000  to  the  man  who  would  marry  me  to- 
morrow and  promise  never  to  see  me  again. 
We  had  just  finished  it  when  you  arrived. 
It  didn't  occur  to  me  until  after  you  had 
gone  again  that  you  were  a  direct  answer 
from  Heaven  to  that  advertisement  which 
hadn't  been  published  yet,  but  as  soon  as 
I  got  the  idea  I  came  after  you." 

"May  I  ask  how  you  found  me?  Doc- 
tor Allen  doesn't  know  my  address." 

"I  trailed  you.  It  isn't  hard  to  pick 
up  the  track  of  a  small  messenger-boy 
leading  a  tall,  thin,  blind  man  in  a  check 
suit  of  an  unbecoming  shade." 

He  winced.     "It's  an  English  fabric," 


28  MOLLY  AND  I 

he  defended,  "a  relic  of  days  when  I  had 
money." 

"Anyway  it  helped  me  find  you,"  the 
woman's  voice  continued.  "I  got  here 
just  as  your  messenger-boy  was  leaving. 
I  told  him  to  wait  downstairs  and  came  in. 
If  I  had  arrived  a  little  later  I  would  have 
felt  like  a  widow.  I  was  so  set  on  having 
you  for  a  husband."  Her  voice  broke  a 
little,  telling  of  the  intense  excitement 
she  had  been  masking  with  an  affectation 
of  levity. 

The  man  debated  slowly,  "I  still  fail  to 
see  why  I  should  be  so  honored." 

The  girl  laughed  a  little  hysterically 
and  went  on  hastily,  "Can't  you  under- 
stand that  I  don't  want  to  marry  anybody 
but  if  I  have  to  I'd  much  rather  be  Mrs. 
Philip  Smith  than  the  wife  of  John  Doe, 
the  celebrated  forger  and  blackmailer, 
which  is  probably  what  I'll  be  to-morrow 
if  you  don't  help  me  out." 


NEITHER  ARE  WILLS         29 

"The  picture  you  draw  of  your  plight  is 
truly  terrifying,"  he  commented. 

"Then  you'll  do  it?"  she  asked,  anx- 
iously. 

He  laughed  out  loud  at  the  sheer  non- 
sense of  it.  "  Just  this  once,  if  it  will  really 
help  you  any.  I  don't  seem  to  have  much 
choice  in  the  matter.  I'm  your  prisoner, 
-  and  life's." 

"It's  a  bargain  then.  We'll  shake  hands 
on  it."  He  heard  her  chair  pushed  back 
as  she  rose. 

He  also  got  slowly  to  his  feet  and  ex- 
tended his  hand  uncertainly  before  him. 

It  was  grasped  firmly  across  the  table 
by  slender,  strong  fingers.  Hers  was  the 
hand  of  a  capable  person.  The  look  on 
his  face  changed  from  amused  tolerance 
to  one  of  admiration.  Unconsciously  he 
stood  straighter  and  held  his  head  higher. 
A  man  is  always  taller  if  he  has  the  faith 
of  some  woman  in  his  keeping. 


30  MOLLY  AND  I 

"By  the  way,"  he  said  casually,  "if 
you  will  hand  me  that  weapon  you  took 
away  from  me  I'll  put  it  out  of  sight  and 
dispel  the  atmosphere  of  melodrama  from 
this  scene,  which  I  see  is  conventional 
comedy." 

Without  hesitation  she  placed  the  re- 
volver in  his  outstretched  hand.  He  broke 
it,  ejecting  the  chamber  into  his  palm. 

"You  may  have  those,"  he  offered, 
holding  out  the  five  cartridges. 

She  took  them  silently.  He  opened  a 
drawer  in  the  table  and  dropped  the  gun 
into  it  noisily. 

"There,  that's  over,"  he  said. 

"You  mean  that?" 

"Yes.  Whatever  has  to  be  faced  I'll 
meet.  I  should  be  ungrateful  to  you  if  I 
didn't  do  that  much  after  you  took  the 
trouble  to  follow  me  half  way  across  New 
York  to  save  me  from  myself.  What  is 
next  on  the  programme?" 


NEITHER  ARE   WILLS         31 

"We'll  get  married  and  then  we'll  start 
you  off  on  your  honeymoon." 

"My  honeymoon?"  His  voice  was 
blank  astonishment. 

"Yes.  You're  going  to  spend  it  all 
alone  with  the  famous  Swiss  surgeon.  I 
had  Doctor  Allen  reserve  a  stateroom  for 
you  on  the  Franco-American  boat  sailing 
to-night." 

"What  if  I  refuse?" 

:<  You  can't.  According  to  law  a  wife  can 
arrange  for  medical  attention  for  her  hus- 
band when  he  is  ill,  even  against  his  orders." 

"I  never  heard  of  that  law,"  Philip 
argued  sceptically.  "I  don't  believe  it's 
on  the  statute  books  of  this  State." 

"If  it  isn't  it  ought  to  be.  Please," 
her  voice  took  on  a  wheedling  tone,  "do 
as  I  have  arranged  and  don't  force  me 
to  make  up  laws  in  order  to  get  my  own 
way.  Can  we  go  now?  Are  you  ready?" 

"I'm  as  ready  as  I  can  be.     This  is  no 


32  MOLLY  AND  I 

wedding  garment  I  am  wearing  but  it  must 
do.  The  tailor  is  late  with  my  trousseau 
and  we  can't  keep  the  guests  waiting." 
He  started  across  the  room  gaily,  collided 
with  the  other  chair,  paused  uncertainly 
and  turned  in  the  wrong  direction. 

"May  I  lead  you?"  asked  the  girl. 

"I'm  afraid  you'll  have  to,"  he  replied, 
simply.  "  I  haven't  been  in  the  dark  quite 
long  enough  yet  to  have  my  bearings." 

On  the  front  steps  they  picked  up  the 
messenger-boy.  The  girl  suggested  that 
they  take  him  along  as  a  witness  and 
Philip  gravely  introduced  the  young  man  to 
her,  mentioning  "Jerry"  as  his  name  and 
speaking  of  the  girl  only  as  "my  fiancee." 

The  wedding  party  formed,  they  hailed 
a  taxi  and  directed  the  chauffeur  to  drive 
to  the  office  of  the  city  clerk.  There  they 
discovered  that  they  could  not  be  married 
immediately  on  a  New  York  license  and 
returned  to  the  taxi  in  some  perturbation. 


NEITHER  ARE  WILLS         33 

"If  you  want  to  get  married,"  said  the 
taxi  driver,  who  took  in  their  situation 
from  scraps  of  conversation,  "you  can 
get  a  license  and  a  justice  of  the  peace 
over  in  Jersey  that  can  do  the  trick  with- 
out delay." 

"Do  you  know  right  where  to  go?"  the 
girl  questioned  anxiously. 

"Sure.  I  take  a  wedding  party  over 
there  about  once  a  week." 

"The  same  one?" 

"No,  —  not  the  entire  party.  I  took 
one  man  twice,  though,  with  a  different 
girl  each  time.  I  guess  the  first  knot  didn't 
hold." 

"Mr.  Smith,"  said  she,  "have  you  time 
to  go  over  to  New  Jersey  with  me?" 

* ' C ertainly , "  he  replied .  "I  have  all  the 
rest  of  my  life  to  devote  to  carrying  out 
your  wishes.  I  haven't  any  other  plan  for 
whatever  future  there  may  be  for  me.  Be- 
hold the  first  slave  since  the  Civil  War!" 


34  MOLLY  AND  I 

"And  you,  Jerry?" 

"I  can  stay  as  long  as  you  pay  for  me." 

"Then,  all  aboard  for  the  uncharted  seas 
of  New  Jersey.  Chauffeur,  you  may  come 
about  and  head  her  nose  into  the  teeth  of 
the  gale.  Stop  at  the  first  altar  you  come 
to." 

The  car  ran  smoothly,  the  birds  sang 
merrily,  the  sun  shone  brightly  for  all  but 
one  of  the  wedding  party,  and  everything 
was  as  smooth  as  the  preliminaries  of  a 
carefully  arranged  ceremony  planned  for 
months  ahead.  A  thoughtful  silence  set- 
tled upon  the  girl.  Philip  engaged  Jerry 
in  serious  conversation. 

"Jerry,"  he  said," have  you  got  such  a 
thing  as  a  'Nick  Carter'  about  you?" 

The  messenger-boy  preserved  a  suspi- 
cious silence  for  a  moment,  then  answered 
gruffly,  "No,  I  ain't.  What  did  you  want 
it  for?" 

"I  thought  I'd  ask  you  to  read  to  my 


NEITHER  ARE  WILLS         35 

fiancee  and  myself.  I  supposed  messen- 
ger-boys always  carried  a  copy  of  'Nick 
Carter'  about  with  them." 

"Aw,  I  don't  read  them  things  no  more. 
Nobody  but  young  kids  reads  'Nick  Car- 
ter' these  days." 

" Is  that  so?  What  do  you  do  with  your 
spare  time?" 

"I  read  the  sporting  dope  in  the  pink 
sheet,  —  the  baseball  stuff  and  all  that." 

"  I  consider  it  a  howling  shame  the  way 
we  modern  people  outgrow  our  simple, 
childish  amusements.  Here  you've  aban- 
doned the  idol  of  childhood  at  an  age 
when  your  grandfather  was  still  reading 
fairy  stories." 

Jerry  sniffed  audibly. 

"I  take  it,"  continued  the  man,  "that 
you  don't  care  much  for  fairy  stories  either. 
No?" 

"Aw,  quit  kidding  me." 

"Maybe  you  never  heard  a  first-class, 


36  MOLLY  AND  I 

hand-made,  fairy  story.  For  instance, 
did  anyone  ever  relate  to  you  the  authen- 
tic history  of  'The  Fairy  Queen  Who  Had 
a  Wooden  Leg'?" 

"Aw,  go  on." 

"Yes,  do  go  on." 

'' You're  not  supposed  to  be  listening. 
This  is  a  fairy  story  for  the  simple  wise 
men  of  the  city  and  for  the  blind.  Fatima, 
put  a  tango  record  on  the  electric  piano 
and  hearken  to  what  we  are  about  to 
narrate." 


CHAPTER  III 

THE    STORY    OF    THE     FAIRY    QUEEN    WHO 
HAD   A   WOODEN   LEG 


upon  a  time  there  was  a  fairy  by 
the  name  of  Patsy  who  had  hard 
luck.  She  was  born  on  a  very  rainy  Friday 
in  November  when  the  wind  was  howling 
so  loud  that  she  had  to  yell  like  a  baseball 
fan  to  make  herself  heard  at  all. 

When  finally  her  mother,  who  was  the 
queen  of  all  the  fairies,  looked  up  and  saw 
that  Patsy  was  born  she  spoke  to  her  hus- 
band, who  was  reading  the  paper  and 
hadn't  noticed  anything,  either.  Like 
most  women  she  hastened  to  blame  the 
man.  "Look,  Cyril,"  she  said,  "you've 
got  a  daughter."  And  with  that  she  paid 
no  more  attention  to  Patsy  but  went  on 
with  her  breakfast,  which  consisted  of 


38  MOLLY  AND  I 

sweet  alyssum  flowers  on  toast  and  a  blue- 
bell cup  full  of  dew. 

Cyril  laid  down  his  paper  crossly. 
"This  sort  of  thing  has  got  to  stop.  There 
are  too  many  fairies  already.  So  few  chil- 
dren believe  in  us  nowadays  that  it's  hard 
enough  for  what  fairies  there  are  to  make 
a  living  without  adding  to  the  band.  You 
must  think  that  I'm  running  an  orphan 
asylum.  Do  you  know  how  much  honey 
is  an  ounce?  The  last  we  bought  cost 
nineteen  sprays  of  goldenrod  and  they 
say  it's  going  up,  too." 

He  walked  over  to  Patsy  and  looked  at 
her  searchingly.  "She's  an  ugly  little 
thing,"  he  commented.  "It's  going  to  be 
hard  to  get  the  children  to  believe  in  any- 
thing with  a  red  nose  and  such  large  ears." 
He  paused  and  then  went  on.  "  By  George, 
she  looks  a  good  deal  like  your  family." 

"What's  that  you  say  about  my  family?" 
The  queen  stopped  eating  and  confronted 


STORY  OF  THE  FAIRY  QUEEN  39 

her  husband,  her  eyes  blazing  with  anger. 
"My  family  indeed!  What  right  have 
you  to  talk  about  my  family?  What  were 
you  before  I  married  you?  I'll  tell  you. 
You  were  a  low-down,  common,  green  or 
garden  kind  of  a  fairy,  that's  what  you 
were.  You  used  to  say  'ain't'  and  'seen' 
and  'done'  and  you  ate  jonquil  buds  with 
a  knife." 

Cyril  was  silent  because  he  knew  that 
what  she  said  was  true. 

"And,"  continued  the  queen,  "just  be- 
cause you  said  what  you  did  you  may  have 
entire  charge  of  the  child.  I  have  to  at- 
tend a  special  meeting  of  the  Federation 
of  Fairy  Godmothers." 

With  that  she  flounced  out  of  the  room. 
Cyril  was  so  angry  at  having  his  wife  get 
the  better  of  him  in  an  argument  that  he 
paid  no  attention  to  Patsy  whatever,  save 
to  push  her  out  of  the  way  with  his  foot 
as  he  grabbed  up  his  coat  and  crown  and 


40  MOLLY  AND  I 

set  out  to  spend  the  day  at  the  club,  where 
he  lost  a  good  deal  of  fairy  money  in  a 
game  of  auction  pinochle  and  drank  more 
heliotrope  wine  than  was  good  for  him. 

With  that  kind  of  a  start  you  could 
hardly  expect  Patsy  to  be  much  of  a  suc- 
cess as  a  fairy,  and  she  wasn't.  Her  par- 
ents, both  of  them,  always  regarded  her 
as  a  sort  of  step-child.  As  a  result  of  that 
she  had  to  get  along  with  a  very  poor 
assortment  of  clothes,  in  fact,  cast-offs 
of  every  description.  For  instance,  she 
would  often  be  seen  wearing  an  old  torn 
robe  made  of  rose  petals  that  her  mother 
had  thrown  away,  and  a  patched  pair  of 
her  father's  cobweb  pants,  cut  down  to 
fit,  of  course.  You'll  have  to  admit  that 
with  that  sort  of  a  ragamuffin  equipment 
it's  pretty  hard  to  be  convincing.  What 
would  you  think  if  a  forlorn-looking,  little 
fairy,  dressed  like  that,  with  a  dirty  face 
and  maybe  a  black  eye,  should  suddenly 


STORY  OF  THE  FAIRY  QUEEN  41 

appear  to  you  and  offer  to  grant  you  three 
wishes? 

Nobody  would  believe  in  her.  Usually 
they'd  just  laugh  at  her,  which  hurt  her 
feelings,  but  sometimes  they  would  put 
her  out  and  threaten  to  squash  her  with 
a  fly-swatter  if  she  came  around  again. 
This  was  terribly  discouraging,  especially 
as  she  wasn't  any  good  in  the  world  ex- 
cept to  grant  wishes.  Patsy  started  out 
the  year  with  the  power  to  grant  a  hun- 
dred wishes  and  along  in  November,  with 
the  year  nearly  up,  she  had  ninety-nine 
of  'em  left.  The  only  wish  she  had  been 
able  to  grant  was  that  of  an  old  lady  she 
was  trying  to  help  with  her  knitting.  Ac- 
cidentally Patsy  dropped  the  yarn  and 
got  it  all  tangled  up  and  the  old  lady  said, 
"I  wish  you'd  go  and  jump  in  the  lake." 
Patsy  had  to  grant  her  wish.  The  water 
was  cold,  too. 

There  was  only  one  thing  Patsy  really 


42  MOLLY  AND  I 

enjoyed.  That  was  dancing  on  roofs. 
As  you  probably  know,  whenever  it  rains, 
all  the  fairies  who  aren't  on  duty  some- 
where, turn  out  and  dance  on  the  roofs. 
They  like  tin  roofs  best  because  they 
tinkle  so  nicely,  but  any  kind  of  roof  will 
do  except  a  flat,  gravel  one.  That  kind 
isn't  any  fun.  Patsy  had  a  great  deal  of 
time  for  dancing  because  no  one  wanted 
her  for  anything  else.  You'd  think  that 
she  would  have  become  the  best  dancer 
of  all  the  fairies,  but  she  didn't.  On  the 
contrary  she  was  always  stumbling  and 
slipping.  Very  often  she'd  slip  on  one 
of  those  slanting,  shingle  roofs  and  fall 
several  stories  down  to  the  ground.  But 
she'd  laugh,  pick  herself  up,  and  go  back 
to  the  roof  and  dance  some  more,  none 
the  worse  except  for  a  bruise  or  so  and 
maybe  another  tear  in  her  father's  cob- 
web trousers. 

One  night,  when  there  was  a  terrific 


STORY  OF  THE  FAIRY  QUEEN  43 

storm,  Patsy  found  the  loveliest  tin  roof 
she  had  ever  danced  on.  It  was  loose  in 
spots  and  rattled  ever  so  loudly  when  she 
stamped  her  tiny  feet.  She  was  all  alone 
on  this  particular  roof  and  whirled  and 
leaped  and  raced  to  her  heart's  content. 
Never  before  had  she  made  so  much  noise. 
The  storm  grew  more  boisterous,  it  light- 
ened and  thundered,  and  Patsy  had  to 
stamp  louder  than  ever  to  match  the 
thunder  for  racket. 

All  at  once  there  was  an  especially  loud 
bang,  the  tin  beneath  her  feet  gave  way 
and  she  fell  right  through  the  roof.  It 
would  not  have  damaged  her  at  all  if  she 
hadn't  struck  her  leg  on  the  foot-board 
of  a  bed  when  she  landed.  As  it  was, 
when  she  tried  to  stand  up  again  she 
couldn't  because  her  leg  had  been  broken 
off  at  the  knee.  It  didn't  hurt  because  her 
legs  and  arms  and  body  were  only  made 
of  twilight  mist  anyway  but  it  was  mighty 


44  MOLLY  AND  I 

inconvenient.  She  picked  up  the  broken- 
off  piece  and  was  trying  to  fit  it  back  on 
when  she  heard  a  nice  voice  saying,  "  Can 
I  help  you?" 

Patsy  looked  up,  and  there,  sitting  up 
in  bed,  was  a  boy  who  was  very  pale  but 
who  smiled  with  a  friendly  look  that  she 
had  never  seen  on  anybody's  face  before. 
She  forgot  all  about  her  broken  leg  and 
smiled  right  back  at  him. 

"I  heard  you  dancing  up  there,"  he 
said,  "and  I  was  afraid  that  you  might 
fall  through.  The  roof  needs  mending 
but  we  are  very  poor  and  can't  afford  it." 

"You  heard  me  dancing?"  exclaimed 
Patsy,  joyfully.  "Then  you  believe  in 
me?" 

"Sure,"  said  the  little  sick  boy,  and 
Patsy  was  so  pleased  that  she  danced  up 
and  down  on  one  leg,  that  being  all  she 
had  left,  and  crawled  right  up  into  his  lap, 
so  to  speak. 


STORY  OF  THE  FAIRY  QUEEN  45 

"Now,"  said  the  little  boy,  "let  me  help 
you  mend  yourself." 

Patsy  didn't  tell  him  that  all  she  had 
to  do  was  to  take  the  broken  pieces  home 
and  have  herself  wished  together  again, 
because  she  was  so  pleased  to  have  some- 
one believe  in  her.  So  she  let  him  make 
her  a  wooden  leg  out  of  a  match,  which 
he  tied  on  with  a  strand  of  his  own  hair 
almost  as  fine  and  soft  as  a  spider's 
thread. 

All  that  rainy  afternoon  she  stayed  and 
played  with  him  until  his  mother,  who 
worked  out  by  the  day,  came  home  along 
toward  dusk  and  lit  the  gas  with  Patsy's 
wooden  leg,  not  noticing  that  Patsy  was 
attached  to  it.  Women  who  work  out 
by  the  day  scrubbing  floors  and  washing 
windows  naturally  do  not  believe  in 
fairies  and  so,  of  course,  can't  see  them. 
Patsy  wasn't  hurt  in  the  least  and  rather 
liked  the  effect  of  the  blackened  wood,  when 


46  MOLLY  AND  I 

the  match  was  blown  out.  But  fairies  can't 
stay  around  people  who  don't  believe  in 
them,  so  Patsy  assured  the  little  boy  that 
she'd  be  back  the  next  day  when  he  was 
alone  and  went  through  the  hole  in  the 
tin  roof. 

She  came  back  the  next  day  and  the  day 
after  that  and  so  on  for  a  long  time  until 
they  became  fast  friends.  As  he  was  the 
only  person  in  all  the  world  who  believed 
in  her,  she  had  a  lot  of  time  to  spend  on  him. 
She'd  dance  for  him  by  the  hour  on  the 
narrow  foot-board  of  the  bed,  her  wooden 
leg  drumming  an  irregular  tattoo,  and 
sometimes  to  make  him  laugh  she'd  fall 
and  do  a  somersault  backwards  on  the  bed. 
Other  times  she'd  tell  stories  about  things 
that  had  happened  to  her  and  he'd  laugh 
over  her  mishaps,  but  always  in  such  a  way 
that  she  knew  he  was  sorry  for  her  at  the 
same  time. 

Oh,  they  did  hundreds  of  things,  and 


STORY  OF  THE  FAIRY  QUEEN  47 

neither  of  them  had  ever  had  such  good 
times  before. 

Then  one  day  she  found  the  little  boy 
too  weak  to  sit  up  in  bed  and  when  he 
tried  to  smile  at  her  he  couldn't  because  he 
was  too  tired.  The  Fairy  With  a  Wooden 
Leg  was  alarmed  but  she  did  not  want 
to  let  him  know  it  so  she  was  twice  as 
cheerful  as  ever  before.  All  day  long 
she  told  funny  stories  and  danced  and  did 
hand-springs  but  it  wasn't  any  use.  He 
grew  weaker  and  weaker  and  finally  when 
the  room  grew  dim  at  twilight,  he  shut 
his  eyes.  Patsy  hovered  over  him  to  see 
if  he  was  asleep.  No.  He  was  still  awake 
but  he  was  so  tired  that  he  could  barely 
breathe. 

She  realized  that  she  must  redouble  her 
efforts  so  she  sang  as  loud  as  she  could  and 
did  somersaults  for  him  from  the  foot  of 
the  bed.  That  had  always  made  him 
laugh  before  but  now  he  didn't  even 


48  MOLLY  AND  I 

see  her.  She  danced  so  hard  with  her 
wooden  leg  that  she  splintered  it  but 
the  little  boy's  heart-beats  grew  slower 
and  slower. 

Patsy  began  to  cry  a  little.  What  could 
she  do?  Except  the  queen  none  of  the 
fairies  is  allowed  to  grant  life  to  a  dying 
person.  None  of  them  would  dare  even 
try  it  because  the  queen  in  wrath  would 
immediately  destroy  the  reckless  fairy  who 
dared  to  usurp  her  power. 

The  only  person  in  the  world  who  be- 
lieved in  her  was  going  away  on  slow  heart- 
beats and  Patsy  couldn't  overtake  him 
and  stop  him.  What  would  she  do  with- 
out him?  Where  would  be  the  fun  in 
dancing  on  the  roofs  in  the  rain  again  all 
by  herself?  Swiftly  she  made  up  her  mind 
she  would  try  to  grant  life  to  the  little 
boy.  She  might  be  able  to  save  him  be- 
fore the  queen  found  out  and  destroyed 
her,  and  she  didn't  mind  much  being  de- 


STORY  OF  THE  FAIRY  QUEEN  49 

stroyed,  although  she  wondered  what  it 
would  be  like. 

So  she  began  saying  the  magic  words  of 
the  royal  incantation  and  wishing  with 
all  her  heart  that  the  little  boy  might  live. 
As  she  said  the  words  the  room  began  to 
grow  lighter  and  there  was  a  terrifying 
hum  in  the  air.  It  was  power,  but  was 
it  being  used  for  the  little  boy  or  against 
her?  Patsy  didn't  know  enough  about 
the  effect  of  the  royal  incantation,  to  be 
sure,  but  she  went  bravely  on,  never  falter- 
ing. All  at  once  there  was  a  blinding 
flash  and  that  was  all  that  she  remem- 
bered. 

The  next  thing  she  knew  she  was  lying 
in  a  corner  of  the  room,  and  bending  over 
the  little  boy's  bed  were  two  men  using  a 
strange  piece  of  machinery  that  hummed 
like  a  swarm  of  bees.  The  little  boy  was 
alive.  But  the  strangest  of  all  Patsy 
noticed  that  the  room  was  filled  with 


50  MOLLY  AND  I 

fairies,  hundreds,  thousands,  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  them,  all  drawn  up  in  glit- 
tering ranks  kneeling  before  her.  She  got 
up  and  walked  down  the  lines  in  front  of 
them,  limping  a  little  on  her  wooden  leg. 

One  of  the  fairies  threw  a  shimmering 
robe  of  lacy  spider  web  across  her  shoul- 
ders and  another  set  a  crown,  jewelled  with 
dewdrops,  upon  her  brow. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  demanded 
Patsy.  "Are  you  dressing  me  up  like 
this  to  destroy  me?" 

"No,"  replied  one  of  the  fairies,  "we 
dress  you  thus  because  you  are  our  queen." 

And  so  she  was,  and  that  explained  why 
she  was  able  to  grant  life  to  the  little  boy. 

The  former  queen,  Patsy's  mother,  had 
been  annihilated  that  very  morning  in 
trying  to  grant  the  wishes  of  some  English 
suffragettes.  She  thought  it  was  a  toy 
balloon  she  was  sitting  on,  but  it  wasn't. 


CHAPTER  IV 

A   SILVER  WEDDING   RING 

"'VTOW,"  said  Philip,  after  a  pause,  "you 
naturally  ask  what  became  of  the 
little  boy,  don't  you?" 

"Yes,"  said  Jerry,  rather  ashamed  to 
admit  that  he  had  been  interested  in  the 
story. 

"He  got  well.  The  doctors  from  the 
County  Hospital  said  the  pulmotor  saved 
him  but  the  little  boy  himself  knows  bet- 
ter. He  grew  strong  and  when  he  be- 
came a  man  he  was  one  of  the  best  pitchers 
in  the  National  League." 

"Do  you  mean  Matty?" 

"I  didn't  say,  but  you  can  find  out  if 
you  watch  for  the  one  who  goes  around 
picking  up  burnt  matches  and  putting 
them  in  his  pockets.  He's  in  hopes  that 


52  MOLLY  AND  I 

some  day  he'll  find  the  one  that  Patsy  is 
using  for  a  wooden  leg,  so  he  can  thank 
her." 

"Tell  some  other  adventures  of  the  fairy 
who  had  a  wooden  leg,"  suggested  the 
girl. 

"I  would,"  replied  Philip,  "but  some- 
thing in  the  feel  of  the  air  tells  me  that 
we  are  in  New  Jersey,  and  therefore  must 
stop." 

"Why?" 

"  Why,  to  be  married.  I  hate  to  remind 
you  of  such  a  thing  but  you  suggested  it 
yourself." 

"  I  know  it.  I  had  completely  forgotten." 

The  car  came  to  a  stop. 

"Is  this  the  place,  driver?"  the  girl  in- 
quired. 

"Yes,  ma'm.  They  give  you  the  whole 
business,  including  the  third  degree,  right 
in  the  same  building.  The  clerk  sells  you 
the  license  and  a  special  permit  and  a 


A  SILVER  WEDDING  RING    53 

justice  of  the  peace  right  across  the  hall 
does  the  rough  work,  —  I  mean,  marries 
you." 

"All  right."  The  girl  got  out  of  the 
car  and  helped  the  blind  man  to  follow 
her.  "Come  along,  Jerry,  and  you  too, 
driver.  We'll  need  witnesses." 

The  clerk  proved  obliging  and  the  mat- 
ter of  the  license  was  quickly  got  over. 
Then,  marshalled  by  the  chauffeur,  who 
was  full  of  get-hitched-quick  information, 
the  party  sought  the  justice  of  the  peace 
across  the  hall. 

There  they  found  another  wedding  party 
ahead  of  them  and  they  were  politely  re- 
quested to  wait  until  the  judge  was  at 
liberty.  This  they  did,  fidgeting  nervously 
like  patients  in  a  dentist's  ante-room. 

"O  dear!"  murmured  the  girl.  "I  wish 
I  had  a  mother  or  a  father  or  somebody 
here.  I  feel  so  friendless." 

"How  can  you  feel  friendless  when  you 


54  MOLLY  AND  I 

so  nearly  have  a  husband  ? ' '     Philip  smiled 
reassuringly. 

"Lots  of  women  who  have  really  truly 
husbands  feel  that  way."  She  was  silent 
a  moment  and  then  asked,  "Before  you 
marry  me  wouldn't  you  like  to  know  what 
I  look  like?  Shall  I  describe  myself  to 
you?" 

"No,"  replied  Philip  slowly,  "I  should 
prefer  not  to  know  what  you  look  like." 

"Oh!" 

"Don't  be  offended.  There  are  two 
reasons  for  that.  One  is  because  if  I  have 
no  clue  as  to  your  appearance  you  are 
doubly  sure  of  my  not  bothering  you  any 
in  the  future." 

"And  what's  the  other  reason?" 

"The  other  reason  is  that  I  have  always 
had  a  certain  ideal  for  my  wife  and  as  it 
would  be  ridiculous  to  assume  that  you 
are  even  of  that  type  it  seems  better  to 
me  to  retain  my  ideal  than  to  have  it  sup- 


A  SILVER  WEDDING  RING    55 

planted  by  a  contrary  though  charming 
reality." 

"I  am  just  curious  enough  to  want  to 
know  what  your  ideal  is." 

"Don't  you  know  that  the  hardest  task 
that  a  novelist  has  is  the  description  of 
his  heroine?"  Philip  paused  and  after  a 
moment's  thought  continued,  "My  wife, 
as  I  have  pictured  her,  need  not  look  like 
anything  in  particular, — her  hair  might 
be  straight  and  black  or  very  fluffy  and 
light, —  not  too  blonde  of  course, —  her 
eyes  can  be  any  color  at  all,  so  long  as 
they  are  soft, — her  nose  quite  Roman, —  " 

"Oh!"  breathed  the  girl. 

"Or  with  the  tip  turned  skyward,  and 
she  can  be  any  size  so  long  as  I  can  pick 
her  up  and  carry  her.  But  there  will  be 
something  I  shall  recognize  when  we  meet, 
a  sympathy  that  will  reach  out  and  enfold 
me,  an  understanding  that  will  require 
no  explanations,  and  I  shall  know  her 


56  MOLLY  AND  I 

step  when  she  comes  to  me  for  it  will  fall 
into  perfect  time  with  the  beating  of  my 
heart."  Then  with  an  abrupt  change  of 
manner  he  added,  "Of  course  you  realize 
that  I  am  quoting  a  paragraph  from  one 
of  my  unpublished  novels." 

"By  George!"  exclaimed  the  best  man 
and  chauffeur.  "  We  forgot  to  get  a  ring !" 

"A  ring?"  Philip  echoed  blankly.  "Do 
we  have  to  have  a  ring?" 

"Well,"  replied  the  veteran  of  a  thou- 
sand taxi  elopements,  "some  people  are 
married  without  them,  I  guess." 

"I  won't  be,"  declared  the  girl  firmly, 
"and  that's  all  there  is  to  it.  My  mother 
had  a  ring  and  I'm  going  to  have  one. 
That's  about  all  I'm  going  to  get  out  of 
this  marriage  business  anyway,  and  I 
want  it.  I  wonder  if  there  is  a  jewelry 
store  near." 

"  My  mother  gave  me  her  wedding  ring," 
said  Philip  slowly,  "and  I  have  it  now. 


A  SILVER  WEDDING  RING    57 

We'll  use  that  if  you  are  willing.  I  think 
mother  would  be  glad  to  have  it  worn  by 
her  daughter-in-law."  He  took  a  small 
silver  circlet  from  his  pocket.  It  was  the 
only  thing  he  had  not  pawned. 

"It's  a  curious  bit  of  jewelry,  isn't  it?" 
he  added,  as  he  handed  it  to  her.  "It's 
silver,  rather  skillfully  carved.  The  work 
is  Chinese,  I  believe.  Some  of  the  tracery 
is  worn  very  thin  but  it's  quite  distinct." 

The  bride  took  it  with  an  exclamation 
of  delight.  "  Oh,  it's  beautiful.  Will  you 
really  truly  let  me  wear  it  while  we  are 
being  married?" 

"Yes,  and  as  long  as  you  live  after  that." 

"Thank  you  ever  so  much.  I  shall  al- 
ways keep  it."  After  a  pause  during 
which  she  evidently  examined  it  very 
closely  she  exclaimed,  "Why,  there's  some 
fine  engraving  on  the  inside!" 

"That,"  said  Philip  hastily,  "is  just 
some  sentimental  nonsense  my  father  had 


58  MOLLY  AND  I 

put  on.  In  those  days  people  cared  a  lot 
more  about  that  sort  of  thing  than  ;they 
do  now.  Don't  bother  to  try  to  make  it 
out." 

"But  it  isn't  any  bother.  I've  made  it 
out  already."  In  a  lowered  voice  she  read 
softly,  "'Until  death  do  us  part.'" 

"That  sounds  silly,  doesn't  it,  in  these 
days,"  Philip  said,  a  trifle  wistfully. 

"No,  —  it  isn't  silly.    I  love  it." 

"But  we  are  about  to  part  right  now," 
he  objected. 

The  judge  shooed  a  newly  married 
couple  from  his  office. 

"All  ready,"  he  announced  genially  to 
the  waiting  group. 

"The  alarm  has  sounded,"  said  Philip. 
"Maritari  salutamus.  Now  if  someone 
will  play  a  wedding  march  on  a  comb 
we  will  advance  upon  the  altar.  Jerry, 
you  will  escort  the  bride  and  I'll  bring  up 
the  rear  with  my  best  man." 


A  SILVER  WEDDING  RING    59 

Getting  married  was  absurdly  casual. 
It  didn't  seem  possible  that  life-long 
bonds  could  be  assumed  in  so  short  a 
time.  One  moment  you  were  a  timorous, 
cowering  bachelor,  free  to  come  and  go  at 
will,  and  the  next,  presto,  you  had  said 
"yes"  once  or  twice  and  you  were  a  sub- 
stantial, settled,  married  man  with  more 
obligations  and  responsibilities  than  it 
was  possible  or  pleasant  to  remember. 

When  it  was  over  the  judge  shook  hands 
with  both  of  them  and  nudged  the  blind 
man  jovially. 

"Philip  Smith,"  he  reminded  him,  with 
a  laugh,  "you  haven't  kissed  your  wife, 
Mary  Smith,  yet.  She's  waiting." 

Philip  turned  toward  her  with  a  quizzi- 
cal smile. 

"Are  you?"  he  asked. 

"Yes."  The  answer  was  soft  so  that 
he  barely  heard  it,  but  she  placed  her 
hand  in  his  trustingly. 


60  MOLLY  AND  I 

When  he  started  awkwardly  to  put  his 
arm  around  her  he  heard  her  laugh  with 
a  catch  in  her  voice. 

"I'm  not  'way  up  there,"  she  said,  "I'm 
down  here." 


PART  II 


CHAPTER  V 

INTRODUCING  A   VAMPIRE 


.  the  big  liner  swung  away  from 
the  tender  at  Southampton  and 
pushed  her  nose  luxuriously  through  the 
long  swells  that  seemed  to  come  all  the  way 
from  New  York,  Philip  Smith  smiled  a  nice 
contented  smile  and  prepared  to  be  joyful 
all  the  rest  of  his  life.  A  man  whose  sight 
has  been  restored  to  him  after  nearly  a  year 
in  the  dark  has  reason  to  be  an  optimist. 
The  world  is  a  much  better  thing  to  look 
at  than  we  who  see  it  all  the  time  realize. 
Even  the  bewhiskered  Swiss  doctor  had 
been  a  beautiful  picture  when  Philip  looked 
on  him  as  the  bandages  were  removed  for 
the  first  time,  and  the  capable,  stout  nurses 
had  been  visions  of  loveliness  in  the  six 
weeks  that  he  had  spent  in  their  care. 


64  MOLLY  AND  I 

Think,  then,  how  wonderful  it  was  to 
look  forward  to  seeing  once  more  the 
Goddess  of  Liberty,  Sandy  Hook,  Coney 
Island,  the  Battery,  the  ferries  and  the 
ragged,  jagged  skyline  of  the  slender  City 
of  Desire. 

Of  the  passengers  Philip  knew  only  one, 
John  Herrick  by  name,  a  magazine  artist 
he  had  met  in  Paris.  Herrick  had  been 
a  promising  youngster  in  the  early  nineties 
but  the  necessity  of  earning  a  living  had 
worn  him  out  and  now  he  was  middle- 
aged,  rather  fat,  and  unable  to  reach  for 
the  laurel  that  Fame  held  just  above  his 
head.  Herrick  was  one  to  whom  petty 
success  had  come  so  easily  that  it  had 
robbed  him  of  the  incentive  to  make  a  su- 
preme effort.  He  had  sat  back  so  long 
promising  himself  that  to-morrow  he  would 
begin  that  salon  painting  that  now  he  no 
longer  deceived  even  himself. 

He  was  a  bit  of  a  pessimist,  was  Herrick, 


INTRODUCING  A  VAMPIRE    65 

but  not  very  seriously  so,  and  his  com- 
plaints amused  Philip,  who  discounted 
them  ninety  per  cent. 

It  was  through  Herrick  that  Philip  met 
Mrs.  Sutherland  the  second  day  out.  She 
was  also  of  the  artist  colony,  not  a  worker 
but  a  "hanger  on." 

"Here,"  said  Herrick,  halting  Philip  as 
they  were  going  around  the  promenade 
for  the  second  time,  "let  me  introduce 
you  to  Mrs.  Sutherland."  He  faced  his 
friend  toward  a  steamer  chair  in  the  lee 
of  the  main  cabin.  "Mrs.  Sutherland, 
my  friend  Mr.  Smith.  Marian,  get  up 
and  walk  with  this  exercise  fiend  and  let 
me  have  your  steamer  rug  and  chair. 
Give  me  whatever  you're  reading  and  I'll 
go  right  on  with  it  for  you." 

"No,  thank  you,  Jack.  If  you  wish  to 
sit  down,  there  is  a  chair  on  either  side  of 
me  you  know,  and  here  is  my  book;  it's 
the  third  one  by  Chambers  that  I've  read 


66  MOLLY  AND  I 

this  month  and  I've  got  to  quit  soon  or  go 
to  a  sanitarium  to  be  cured  of  him.  Won't 
you  sit  down  on  the  other  side  of  me,  Mr. 
Smith?"  Mrs.  Sutherland  shot  Philip  a 
glance  from  practised  eyes  that  brought 
him  down,  literally  speaking,  to  a  position 
beside  her. 

He  discovered  that  she  was  a  woman  of 
about  his  own  age,  that  is,  between  thirty 
and  thirty-five,  although  the  casual  ob- 
server would  doubtless  discount  that  es- 
timate by  about  five  years.  Some  women 
voluntarily  begin  to  grow  old  at  thirty; 
others,  and  these  are  the  despair  of  the 
debutantes,  realize  that  perfection  of  fig- 
ure and  feature  come  only  with  maturity 
and  conduct  themselves  accordingly.  Mrs. 
Sutherland  was  of  the  latter  class  and 
gave  the  impression  of  rather  revelling 
in  her  physical  attainments,  like  an  ath- 
lete who  takes  pleasure  in  watching  the 
play  of  his  own  muscles.  Everything 


Mrs.  Sutherland  shot  Philip  a  glance  from  practised  eyes 

that  brought  him  down,  literally  speaking, 

to  a  position  beside  her 


INTRODUCING  A  VAMPIRE     67 

about  her  was  luxuriant,  her  dark  hair,  her 
eyes,  the  coloring  of  lips  and  cheek,  and 
the  long,  soft  lines  of  her  figure.  Added 
to  that  was  a  skill  in  that  difficult  art 
of  femininity  which  makes  the  most  of 
every  advantage  which  Nature  has  be- 
stowed. You  felt  that  here  was  an  art- 
ist, whose  person  was  at  once  her  studio 
and  her  masterpiece. 

"I'm  glad  to  make  your  acquaintance 
at  last,  Mr.  Smith,"  she  was  saying.  "I 
have  used  so  many  of  your  cough  drops." 

Philip  looked  at  her  for  the  trace  of  a 
smile.  There  was  none.  She  was  playing 
straight. 

"I'm  afraid  I'm  the  wrong  Smith.  My 
career  has  to  do  with  literature  instead 
of  lungs,  and  as  yet  the  only  persons  who 
even  know  I  have  a  career  are  myself  and 
those  to  whom  I  have  told  it.  I  may  even 
have  failed  to  convince  the  last  men- 
tioned." 


68  MOLLY  AND  I 

"An  author,"  she  mused.  "I  knew  an 
author  once,  but  he  was  not  nearly  as 
nice  as  you  are." 

"But  I'm  not  a  successful  author.  I'm 
much  nicer  on  that  account.  I  think  I've 
heard  Mr.  Herrick  speak  of  you  in  Paris, 
Mrs.  Sutherland.  Are  you  an  artist  too, 
and  if  so,  what  have  you  done?" 

"I've  done  nothing  except  to  be  un- 
happily married  twice.  But  that  is 
nothing  because  I  believe  all  marriages  to 
be  unhappy." 

"Then,"  Philip  questioned,  "why  did 
you  marry  more  than  once?" 

Jack  removed  his  attention  from  Mrs. 
Sutherland's  book  long  enough  to  reply, 
"She  did  it  to  prove  that  she  was 
right." 

"Speaking  of  marriage,"  continued  Mrs. 
Sutherland,  directing  an  appraising  glance 
at  Philip,  "did  you  leave  your  wife  in 
Europe,  Mr.  Smith?" 


INTRODUCING  A  VAMPIRE    09 

"My  wife!"  Philip  was  genuinely  start- 
led. 

"  Yes,"  Mrs.  Sutherland  resumed,  evenly. 
"You  are  married  aren't  you?  It's  no 
disgrace,  you  know." 

"Why,  yes,"  he  confessed.  "I  do  hap- 
pen to  have  been  married,  but  no  one,  not 
even  my  most  intimate  friend,  knows  it. 
How  did  you  guess?" 

Mrs.  Sutherland  considered  a  moment. 
"I  presume  it  was  because  I  liked  you  as 
soon  as  I  saw  you.  I  never  like  anyone 
without  finding  out  that  he  belongs  to 
someone  else."  She  laughed  lightly. 

"I  suppose  then,"  Philip  went  on  in  the 
same  vein,  "that  you  will  lose  all  interest 
in  me  now  that  you  know  that  I  am  mar- 
ried." 

"Not  at  all.  Unless  he  takes  it  seri- 
ously a  marriage  or  two  makes  a  man  all 
the  more  attractive.  The  fact  that  one 
woman  has  put  her  tag  on  a  man  immedi- 


70  MOLLY  AND  I 

ately  stimulates  other  women  to  find  out 
why  she  did  it.  For  another  thing,  mar- 
ried men  are  wickeder  than  bachelors." 

"They're  not  any  wickeder  really,  but 
they  have  press  agents." 

"Personally,"  she  went  on  with  a  smile, 
"I  am  willing  to  be  interested  in  any  man 
for  a  short  space  of  time  and  then  let  him 
go.  I  feel  that  it  is  a  sort  of  duty." 

"How  do  you  figure  that  out?" 

"Well,  for  one  thing,  there  are  more 
women  than  men  in  the  world." 

"Yes,  but  remember  that  it  is  quality 
and  not  quantity  that  counts." 

"And,"  Marian  ignored  the  interruption, 
"as  there  are  so  few  men  it  is  only  fair  for 
one  woman  to  keep  a  man  a  short  time  and 
then  let  him  go  so  that  someone  else  can 
have  him." 

"You  speak  of  man  as  if  he  were  a 
volume  in  a  circulating  library.  Are  these 
theories  of  yours  merely  a  frivolous  mask 


INTRODUCING  A  VAMPIRE    71 

or  do  you  really  mean  them?  Don't  you 
ever  really  care?" 

Her  face  sobered  and  she  let  her  glance 
travel  past  the  rail  to  the  sparkling  sea 
beyond  where  some  gulls  were  conducting 
some  experiments  in  fancy  aviation.  "The 
pity  of  it  is  that  I  used  to  care  a  great  deal, 
but  whenever  I  really  cared  there  wasn't 
any  fun  in  it  because  I  always  got  hurt." 

"So  now  you  let  the  other  fellow  do  all 
the  caring  and  get  all  the  hurting." 

"I  find  it  is  easier."  She  turned  a  daz- 
zling smile  on  him.  "I  trust  you  don't 
mind  meeting  me  with  my  mask  off  this 
way.  Here  I  am  telling  you  all  about  my- 
self and  we're  not  yet  acquainted.  It  has 
one  advantage,  —  it  leaves  you  less  to  be 
disappointed  in,  later." 

"Since  you  are  telling  me  all  about 
yourself,  what  manner  of  woman  are  you?" 

"If  you  really  want  to  know,"  she  re- 
plied, with  engaging  candor,  "I'm  the 


72  MOLLY  AND  I 

sort  of  person  other  women  never  like 
and  men  call  'a  great  girl  to  have  a 
good  time  with,'  so  you  see  I  haven't 
any  real  friends  in  the  world.  I  admit 
that  in  some  ways  I  am  attractive." 

Here  was  an  adversary  so  sure  of  her- 
self that  she  dared  throw  all  her  weapons 
on  the  table  in  the  presence  of  her  enemy. 

"I  have  to  admit  that,  too,"  he  replied, 
smiling. 

"But  it  never  amounts  to  anything. 
There's  something  beyond  just  'attract- 
ing' that  I  never  seem  to  attain.  So  there 
you  have  me,  —  a  nice,  harmless  vampire 
that  you  can  have  a  lot  of  fun  with,  fear- 
less of  consequences." 

"Confound  such  a  book,"  Jack  ex- 
claimed, handing  the  volume  back  to 
Mrs.  Sutherland. 

"What's  the  matter,  Jack?"  she  en- 
quired sympathetically.  "Don't  you  care 
for  pure  but  passionate  heroines?" 


INTRODUCING  A  VAMPIRE    73 

"Oh,  the  text  is  all  right,  but  the  illus- 
trations !  None  of  the  pictures  match  up 
with  what  the  author  describes.  I  don't 
believe  that  the  artist  read  a  page  of  the 
book." 

"Who  did  the  illustrating?"  Philip 
asked. 

"I'll  see,"  declared  Mrs.  Sutherland, 
opening  the  book  to  the  frontispiece.  "It's 
signed  John  Herrick.  You  did  it  your- 
self, Jack!" 

"What?  Let's  look.  By  George,  I 
remember  now.  I  did  that  stuff  five  years 
ago.  I  was  too  busy  that  season  to  read 
novels.  Chambers  should  have  fixed  the 
story  up  after  he  saw  the  pictures." 

Later,  when  a  bugle  call  for  dinner  sent 
Mrs.  Sutherland  to  her  stateroom  to  dress, 
Philip  asked  the  artist  about  her. 

"I  don't  need  to  tell  you.  She'll  do  it 
herself.  I  give  her  credit  for  being  truth- 
ful to  those  she  loves." 


74  MOLLY  AND  I 

"But  to  the  rest  of  us  what  is  she?" 
"There  isn't  any  'rest  of  us,'  my  boy. 
Marian  loves  all  of  us.  Even  I  have  been 
honored  with  a  short  summer's  flirtation. 
That  was  years  ago  when  I  was  young  and 
slender.  You  promise  to  be  a  shining 
mark  for  her  adoration  because  you're  so 
reticent  you  will  make  her  mad  and  then 
she'll  have  to  bring  you  to  your  knees  to 
satisfy  her  self-respect.  As  an  especially 
shy  bird  I  shall  watch  your  subjugation 
with  interest." 

"Forewarned  is  forearmed,  so  I  thank 

you." 

"Forewarned  isn't  anything  of  the  sort 
with  Marian,  so  don't  thank  me." 

"What  about  Mr.  Sutherland?" 

"He  is  a  prehistoric  myth,  dead, 
divorced,  or  wilfully  missing,  maybe." 

Philip  allowed  himself  to  contemplate 
with  pleasure  the  enforced  association 
for  the  length  of  the  voyage  with  an  at- 


INTRODUCING  A  VAMPIRE    75 

tractive  woman.  Of  course  he  discounted 
Herrick's  estimate  of  Mrs.  Sutherland 
and  his  prediction  of  a  romance  between 
her  and  himself,  but  the  idea  of  spending 
idle,  sunny  days  and  moonlit  evenings  in 
the  company  of  a  person  of  such  definite, 
feminine  charm  interested  him. 


CHAPTER  VI 

A   STRANGE    SEA   SPELL 

A  FTER  dinner  they  met  again  and  he 
was  startled  to  discover  that  on  their 
introduction  he  had  not  realized  the  full 
extent  of  her  beauty.  She  was  standing 
on  the  companionway  leading  to  the  main 
saloon,  —  a  stunning  woman  always  looks 
best  on  the  stairs,  —  carrying  on  a  com- 
bined conversation  and  love  scene  with 
the  ship's  doctor,  always  first  aid  to  the 
flirtatious.  She  had  draped  herself  in  an 
evening  gown  of  a  dark  metallic  gray  and 
the  train  of  it  eddied  around  her  feet  and 
overflowed  to  the  step  below  giving  her 
an  added  and  regal  height.  Philip's  im- 
pression was  that  he  had  never  seen  any 
one  so  daringly  and  gorgeously  gowned, 


A  STRANGE  SEA  SPELL       77 

but  when  he  came  to  analyze  his  thoughts 
he  was  at  a  loss  to  explain  why.  Surely 
the  color  of  the  fabric  was  as  modest  as  it 
is  possible  to  get,  it  was  not  cut  particu- 
larly decollete,  quite  the  opposite  in  fact, 
and  was  very  simply  designed,  with  none 
of  the  eccentricities  of  modern  extreme 
fashions.  Still  the  impression  persisted 
that  her  raiment  was  like  a  diaphanous 
veil.  Long  afterward  he  decided  that 
such  was  the  woman's  magnetic  person- 
ality that  she  projected  herself  outside 
her  garments  and  that  she  wore  this,  as 
well  as  other  gowns,  not  as  clothing  but 
as  an  outer  skin. 

She  swiftly  swept  Philip  into  her  con- 
versation with  the  doctor  and  cleverly 
gave  the  impression  that  Philip  had  joined 
her  by  a  prearranged  plan.  So  the  doctor 
shortly  afterwards  excused  himself  and 
with  a  sigh  left  mere  inclination  behind 
and  went  on  about  his  unofficial  duty  of 


78  MOLLY  AND  I 

hunting  out  the  shy,  unpopular  passen- 
gerine  and  engaging  her  in  a  Dolly  Dia- 
logue. 

"Shall  we  walk  outside?"  Mrs.  Suther- 
land asked,  as  they  mounted  the  steps  to- 
gether, instinctively  drawing  away  from 
the  crowd. 

"If  it  isn't  too  cool  for  you,"  he  agreed. 

"I  can  get  my  wrap  if  I  need  it.  My 
stateroom  is  an  outside  one  on  the  hurri- 
cane deck." 

They  walked  in  the  silence  of  moonlight, 
each  content  in  the  presence  of  a  congenial 
personality,  neither  anxious  to  begin  any 
discussions  that  might  break  the  harmony. 
Quite  naturally  she  tucked  her  hand  under 
his  arm  and  contentedly  hummed  a  snatch 
of  a  happy  little  air  they  had  both  heard 
in  Paris. 

Being  with  her  away  from  the  throng 
and  the  lights,  Philip  found  his  impression 
of  her  undergoing  another  change.  In 


A  STRANGE   SEA  SPELL       79 

the  afternoon  she  had  seemed  a  cynical, 
slightly  wearied  woman  of  the  world,  in 
the  saloon  she  was  a  siren,  an  enchantress, 
and  here,  matching  her  stride  with  his 
moderated  one,  she  seemed  only  a  man's 
good  comrade.  He  knew  that  she  would 
say  the  right  thing,  laugh  in  the  proper 
places  and  understand  his  mood  no  matter 
how  swiftly  he  changed  it. 

"I'm  glad  you  have  decided  that  you 
like  me."  She  stopped  humming  in  the 
midst  of  the  melody. 

"What  makes  you  think  I've  decided?" 
"Because  I  feel  so  comfortable  with 
you.  I'm  sure  I  couldn't  feel  that  way 
unless  you  liked  me,  To  be  with  some 
men,  even  the  most  interesting  ones,  is  a 
strain  and  I  can't  stand  it  for  long,  while 
to  be  with  others  is  actually  restful.  I 
have  an  idea  that  we  could  be  pretty  fair 
pals  even  when  we  weren't  tuned  up  to 
concert  pitch." 


80  MOLLY  AND  I 

"To  state  it  differently,  in  a  world  of 
artichokes  and  green  peppers  I  am  a 
nice,  sensible,  boiled  onion." 

"No,  I  mean  that  in  a  world  full  of  a 
number  of  things  such  as  you  mention 
you  would  be  anything  you  wanted  to  be, 
even  if  it  were  quite  different  from  the 
neighboring  vegetables." 

"I  don't  know  that  I  quite  understand 

you." 

"For  that  matter,  no  man  ever  under- 
stands a  woman." 

"How  can  you  say  that  when  there  are 
so  many  confirmed  bachelors?" 

"My  friend,  there  would  be  just  as 
many  woman  who  would  be  bachelors  if 
nature  hadn't  planned  otherwise.  We 
women  have  to  marry  for  several  reasons, 
and  the  chief  one  is  not  'for  support.' 
Almost  all  of  us  can  earn  a  living  of 
some  sort  if  we  have  to,  but  if  a  woman 
doesn't  marry  she  becomes  an  object 


A  STRANGE   SEA  SPELL       81 

of  pity  and  solicitude  to  the  rest  of 
her  sex.  You  never  heard  married  men 
making  fun  of  a  bachelor  of  thirty-five, 
did  you?'* 

"In  my  limited  experience,  no." 

"There  you  have  the  key  to  the  mat- 
rimonial game  as  played  by  woman." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you 
married  without  being  in  love?" 

The  woman  looked  away  to  where  the 
blue  depths  of  the  night  were  only  broken 
by  the  moon-tipped  crests  of  the  waves. 

"No,"  she  answered  slowly,  "I've  been 
in  love  and  I've  been  married,  but  never 
simultaneously.  I've  had  too  many  love 
affairs,  but  the  men  I've  cared  about  must 
have  seen  through  me,  because  I  always 
married  the  man  who  cared  about  me 
instead." 

"Philanthropically?" 

"No,  —  hungrily.  Women  are  never 
philanthropic  where  their  hearts  are  con- 


82  MOLLY  AND   I 

cerned.  I  married,  hoping  to  find  some- 
thing that  did  not  exist.  Then  when  the 
experiment  proved  a  failure  I  gave  it  up 
and  passed  on  to  the  next  one." 

"Do  you  think,  then,  that  a  woman  ought 
to  marry  without  loving  the  man  in  the 
case?  Do  you  think  she  is  justified  in  de- 
ceiving him?" 

"Justified?  She  is  compelled  to  or  she 
could  never  win  one.  In  the  woman's 
code  there  are  no  rules  —  only  penalties 
for  losing.  But  if  you  are  married  you 
know  all  this  from  experience.  Did  your 
marriage  bring  you  happiness?" 

"Not  yet." 

"Are  you  going  to  tell  me  about  it  or 
am  I  going  to  do  all  the  talking  clear  across 
the  Atlantic?" 

"I'll  try  to  do  my  half.  Here,  then,  is 
the  story  of  my  life."  Philip  paused,  mar- 
shalled his  thoughts  and  began  glibly,  "I 
gave  up  my  freedom  several  years  ago  in 


A  STRANGE   SEA  SPELL       83 

Europe.  My  prospective  widow  was  a 
Viennese.  She  was  tall,  well  built,  with 
dark  hair  and  eyes  and,  —  "  he  hesitated  for 
further  description,  — "  and  she  played 
the  saxaphone  beautifully.  I  am  always 
overcome  with  emotion  this  way  when  I 
think  of  how  she  played  'Way  Down 
Upon  the  Swanee  River'  with  variations." 

"I  am  afraid,"  murmured  Marian,  in 
the  pause,  "that  your  literary  training  is 
causing  you  to  embellish  your  autobiog- 
raphy." 

"Which  you  have  to  admit,"  returned 
Philip,  "is  much  more  ladylike  than  say- 
ing I  am  a  liar  right  out  loud.  You  don 't 
have  to  hear  any  more  of  this  story  if  you 
don't  want  to." 

"No,"  she  urged  politely,  "go  on;  that 
is,  if  you  can  think  of  any  more." 

"  Where  was  I? "  he  resumed.  " Oh  yes, 
we  were  married,  my  wife  and  I  and  the 
saxaphone,  and  we  lived  happily  together 


84  MOLLY  AND  I 

for  over  a  year.  Then  I  noticed  a  change. 
She  no  longer  cared  to  read  my  unfinished 
manuscripts.  I  looked  for  the  cause  and 
discovered  that  a  slide-trombone  player 
had  moved  into  our  neighborhood.  When 
I  heard  them  play  together  I  knew  what 
had  happened.  Did  you  ever  hear  a 
slide-trombone  and  a  saxaphone  per- 
form simultaneously?  No?  Well,  I  had 
reckoned  without  my  wife's  musical  tem- 
perament. It  was  too  late  to  interfere. 
They  had  been  practising  together  for 
over  a  week  before  I  noticed  it,  and  they 
could  play  *O  Promise  Me'  with  hardly 
any  mistakes.  There  was  a  scandal,  of 
course,  but  I  hushed  things  up  as  much 
as  possible  considering  that  there  was  a 
slide-trombone  in  the  affair.  After  she 
went  away  with  him  the  neighbors  sent 
him  a  loving  cup." 

"Thank  you  so  much  for  giving  me  your 
confidence  this  way,"  said  Marian,  when 


A  STRANGE  SEA  SPELL       85 

he  had  concluded.  "No  wonder  you 
write  novels  when  your  life  has  been  such 
a  romance." 

They  drifted  on  to  talk  of  many  things 
and  she  succeeded  in  drawing  Philip  out 
actually  to  tell  her  of  his  work,  what  he 
hoped  for  and  what  the  chances  were  for 
realization.  All  the  while  he  felt  that  her 
interest  and  sympathy  were  genuine  and 
he  gave  himself  over  to  it  hungrily  as  one 
who  has  long  been  away  from  civilization 
steeps  himself  in  the  artificialities  of  life 
when  he  returns. 

When  he  had  said  "Good  night"  and 
left  her  at  the  door  of  her  stateroom  her 
spell  still  persisted  and  he  warmed  over 
the  commonplaces  of  their  intimacy  and 
revelled  in  them.  For  years  he  had  not 
allowed  himself  to  be  interested  in  a 
charming  woman  and  this  shipboard  flir- 
tation saw  the  rebirth  of  old  social  in- 
stincts. In  the  light  of  the  stars  he  asked 


86  MOLLY  AND  I 

himself  if  it  might  not  become  more  than 
a  flirtation. 

Why  not? 

Here  he  was,  without  family  or  real 
friends  in  the  world.  Why  shouldn't  he 
take  the  warm  affection  which  he  knew 
this  woman  would  give  him?  There 
seemed  no  question  in  his  mind  but  that 
they  were  very  congenial.  Seldom  had  he 
met  anyone  of  such  ready  understanding 
and  quick  sympathy.  He  was  not  in 
love  with  he~r  —  no,  not  yet,  anyway, 
but  perhaps  he  was  too  old  for  senti- 
ment. He  smiled  at  this  last  idea.  A 
novelist's  heroes  are  almost  always  his 
own  age  at  the  time  he  is  writing.  Ask 
any  author. 

In  all  the  world  he  had  only  one  tie,  his 
wife,  but  surely  he  could  consider  that 
negligible.  An  arrangement  entered  into 
merely  to  accommodate  a  stranger  seek- 
ing to  evade  the  law  was  not  a  moral  obli- 


A  STRANGE  SEA  SPELL       87 

gat  ion.  He  had  never  seen  the  lady  and 
as  a  souvenir  of  their  meeting  he  had  a 
single  letter.  It  must  have  been  mailed 
immediately  after  his  departure  for  Europe 
because  he  had  received  it  before  the  oper- 
ation on  his  eyes. 

The  nurse  had  brought  it  to  him  in  the 
darkened  room  to  which  he  had  been  sen- 
tenced for  preparation  and  asked  him  in 
broken  English  if  she  should  read  it  to 
him. 

He  had  taken  it  in  his  hand  and  had 
recognized  instantly  the  faint  perfume  of 
the  sender.  For  a  moment  he  thought  of 
keeping  it  until  he  should  be  able  to  read 
it  privately  if  he  ever  could  read  anything 
again,  then  he  realized  that  sentiment  was 
extraneous  to  affairs  between  his  wife 
and  himself  and  directed  the  nurse  to  do 
her  worst. 

She  did.  Translated  back  again  into 
English  it  had  read: — 


88  MOLLY  AND  I 

Dear  Friend  Husband:  — 

I  have  arranged  by  cable  to  have  your 
operation  as  soon  as  it  is  wise.  Will  it  help 
any  if  you  know  that  I  and  the  Fairy  Queen 
with  the  Wooden  Leg  are  both  wishing  every 
minute  that  it  will  not  hurt  much  and  that 
you  will  be  able  to  see  us  next  time  we  meet 
even  if  you  don't  recognize  us? 

Patsy,  the  Fairy  Queen,  says  to  tell  you 
that  she  is  the  mother  of  twins  and  that  she 
has  named  the  prettiest  one  Philip  after  you 
regardless  of  my  protests  regarding  its  gender. 
Philip  is  sitting  on  the  paper  as  I  write,  trying  to 
cut  some  of  her  fairy  teeth  on  the  end  of  my  pen- 
holder and  tracking  ink  all  over  because  she 
stepped  on  a  big  word  before  it  was  quite  dry. 

Whatever  lies  in  store  for  you  don't  forget 
the  promise  you  made  on  your  wedding  day 

to  your  wife, 

Mary  Smith. 

P.S. 

I  don't  mean  the  promise  you  made  before 
the  judge  who  married  us,  but  the  one  you  made 
to  me  all  alone  when  I  first  found  you  that  day. 

M.S. 


A  STRANGE   SEA  SPELL       89 

It  had  been  thoughtful  of  her  to  write 
to  him  when  he  had  been  all  alone  with  no 
one  else  to  give  him  a  word  of  encourage- 
ment, but  of  course  it  was  merely  an  act 
of  charity  on  her  part.  She  was  probably 
even  now  entering  suit  for  divorce,  so  he 
could  consider  the  incident  closed.  True, 
his  mind  would  wander  back  to  dwell 
curiously  on  the  tones  of  her  voice,  her 
laugh  and  the  confiding  trustfulness  of 
the  slender  hand  he  had  held  for  five  min- 
utes while  the  magistrate  mumbled  the 
only  magic  incantation  left  in  our  lan- 
guage. But  it  all  seemed  unreal,  a  dream 
in  his  night  of  blindness  when  all  the  things 
he  knew  and  was  familiar  with  had  dis- 
appeared and  he  had  lived  in  a  black 
world  filled  only  with  stumbling-blocks 
and  faraway  voices. 

While  he  walked,  the  ship  went  to  sleep; 
one  by  one  the  lights  winked  out,  there 
was  no  sound  save  an  occasional  swish  of 


90  MOLLY  AND  I 

water  alongside,  the  throb  of  the  screw 
grew  more  insistent,  and  overhead  the 
great  smokestacks  trailed  inky  fingers 
across  the  spangled  sky. 

Other  promenaders  had  disappeared; 
the  only  comrade  of  his  unrest  in  evidence 
was  the  navigating  officer  on  the  bridge. 
Still  he  stayed  on,  unwilling  to  pen  him- 
self up  in  a  stateroom.  It  was  a  night  to 
dream,  to  revel  in  unthinking  beauty. 
The  joy  and  desire  of  life  throbbed  strong 
in  his  breast  and  the  moon  bade  his  fancy 
run  riot  in  her  carnival  world.  Before 
long  he  would  be  back  in  New  York,  with 
his  life  to  begin  over,  to  build  as  he  would, 
and  this  thought  stimulated  him  so  that 
it  was  a  matter  of  hours  before  he  felt  the 
least  desire  to  seek  his  stateroom. 


CHAPTER  VII 

AN   APARTMENT   SCARCELY   LARGE  ENOUGH 
FOR   ONE 

A/17HEN  he  arrived  in  New  York  Philip 
had  allowed  Herrick  to  arrange 
lodgings  for  him  in  the  same  building  with 
his  own  and  Mrs.  Sutherland's.  He  had 
no  old  associations  that  he  cared  to  renew 
and  he  was  quite  willing  to  have  the  artist 
and  Marian  for  friendly  neighbors.  It 
was  cheerful  to  have  someone  handy  to 
eat  dinners  with  at  the  nearby  cafes  or  to 
call  on  when  paper  and  ink  failed  to  con- 
nect in  the  form  of  literature. 

The  furnished  apartment  that  Herrick 
had  selected  for  his  friend  was  a  tiny 
affair  designed  for  just  the  sort  of  bachelor 
that  he  was.  It  was  divided  into  four 


92  MOLLY  AND  I 

separate  cells,  three  of  which  were  bed- 
room, bathroom  and  kitchenette.  The 
other,  more  spacious,  combined  in  itself 
reception-hall,  living-room,  dining-room 
and  study. 

Fortunately,  the  windows  of  the  main 
room  looked  out  over  the  city  and  afforded 
a  view  of  the  open  sky.  These  windows, 
three  in  number,  bulged  outward  in  bow 
effect,  and  had  clear  glass  in  the  lower  half 
and  small  leaded  panes  in  the  upper.  The 
thoughtful  builder  had  placed  the  steam 
radiator  before  the  principal  window  so 
that  in  winter  it  was  uncomfortable  to 
sit  near  the  light. 

The  kitchenette  was  rather  dark,  but 
as  Herrick  explained  you  did  not  need 
any  light  after  the  first  few  days  because 
you  could  reach  anything  in  it  from  the 
center  of  the  room  without  moving  your 
feet.  Philip  shunned  its  mysteries  at  first 
and  either  took  all  his  meals  at  the  restau- 


AN  APARTMENT  FOR  ONE    93 

rant  in  the  building  or  had  them  sent  up 
to  the  apartment. 

With  an  adaptability  he  was  surprised 
at  finding  that  he  possessed,  Philip 
settled  down  immediately  in  his  new  sur- 
roundings and  began  to  work.  He  man- 
aged to  find  room  for  a  second-hand  desk 
which  he  purchased  from  a  nearby  shop 
and,  mounting  a  rented  typewriter  upon 
it,  he  was  armed  to  assail  literature  in 
her  fortress. 

Many  hours  a  day  he  worked.  By  that 
it  is  not  meant  that  he  worked  at  a  feverish 
pace  for  long  at  a  stretch.  Such  happy 
facility  was  denied  him  as  well  as  most 
authors  since  Sir  Walter  Scott.  Fully 
two  thirds  of  his  time  was  spent  in  staring 
blankly  at  his  typewriter  or  in  walking 
about  the  room,  avoiding  instinctively 
the  furniture  hazards  of  his  course.  His 
brain,  however,  was  constantly  active, 
either  in  actual  construction  or  in  beating 


94  MOLLY  AND  I 

unsuccessfully  against  a  wall  of  refractory 
ideas. 

Some  of  his  hours  of  recreation  were 
spent  with  Marian  who  had  the  happy 
faculty  of  stimulating  him  when  things 
were  moving  along  smoothly  and  of  sooth- 
ing him  when  he  was  "stuck."  His  com- 
panionship with  her  had  retained  just 
enough  of  an  element  of  mystery  to  keep 
his  interest  vividly  alive.  He  felt  sure 
that  he  was  not  in  love  with  her,  because 
thoughts  of  her  did  not  interfere  with  his 
work,  nor  was  he  jealous  of  her  associa- 
tion with  other  men,  but  he  accepted  grate- 
fully the  comfort  of  semi-intimate  associ- 
ation with  an  attractive  woman. 

Philip  had  returned  to  New  York  with 
mind  fully  made  up  to  take  advantage  of 
his  restored  eyesight  and  to  do  regular 
work  at  his  chosen  calling  as  a  writer. 
Despite  his  acknowledged  pleasure  in 
Mrs.  Sutherland's  society,  he  resolutely 


AN  APARTMENT  FOR  ONE    95 

put  out  of  his  mind  every  suggestion  of  a 
possible  romance  and  deliberately  treated 
her  with  a  hale  good  fellowship  copied 
after  Herrick's  manner  with  her,  which 
successfully  banished  sentiment  to  the 
background  of  their  relationship. 

The  afternoon  of  the  fourth  day  of  his 
residence  in  the  new  quarters  found 
Philip's  typewriter  going  so  fast  that  it 
seemed  as  if  it  were  running  away  with 
the  author  who  sat  behind  it.  It  was  one 
of  those  "good"  days  that  come  to  every- 
one once  in  a  while  when  the  atmosphere 
is  charged  with  ideas  and  the  right  word 
or  phrase  is  always  on  the  tip  of  the  tongue 
ready  to  be  used.  A  writer  is  more  prone 
to  have  good  or  bad  working  days  than 
most  people.  An  individual  worker,  he  is 
no  part  of  a  crew  that  will  drag  him  along 
when  his  initiative  is  below  par  or  hold 
him  back  when  he  is  tapping  reserve  bat- 
teries of  energy. 


96  MOLLY  AND  I 

That  very  morning  had  brought  him 
two  things  which  tended  to  make  his  out- 
look on  life  interesting  and  cheerful.  One 
was  the  establishment  of  friendly  and 
financial  relations  with  the  editor  of  one  of 
the  popular-priced  fiction  magazines  who 
had  bought  an  old  manuscript  of  his  and 
asked  for  more  in  the  same  vein.  The 
price  he  received  was  what  he  had  always 
imagined  fiction  writers  received,  divided 
by  eight.  At  that  rate  he  figured  that  he 
could  barely  make  a  living  if  he  wrote 
every  minute  of  the  time  he  was  awake. 
Still  it  was  a  start  in  the  right  direction 
and  he  promised  himself  that  he  would  get 
even  with  the  publishing  world  by  the 
prices  he  would  demand  when  his  name 
was  a  household  word.  Every  author  in- 
dulges in  that  sort  of  dreaming,  —  the  ad- 
vantage that  his  job  has  over  that  of  a 
bricklayer,  which  usually  pays  better. 

The  other  event  of  importance  of  the 


AN  APARTMENT  FOR  ONE    97 

morning  had  been  the  arrival  of  the  mail. 
Philip  had  not  been  established  long 
enough  in  the  new  quarters  for  any  of  his 
old  friends  to  know  his  address,  so  his 
curiosity  had  been  aroused  by  the  presence 
of  a  letter  among  the  circulars  which  al- 
ways greet  a  new  tenant  in  an  apartment 
building.  The  envelope  bore  the  return 
card  of  Doctor  Allen  whom  he  had  notified 
of  his  homecoming,  but  it  was  written  in 
long  hand  and  the  doctor's  correspondence 
was  always  typewritten.  The  handwrit- 
ing was  reminiscent  but  he  failed  to  place 
it  until  he  glanced  at  the  letter  itself  which 
began : 

My  Dear  Mr.  Smith:  — 

Dr.  Allen  tells  me  that  you  have  come  home 
permanently  cured.  Will  you  believe  that  I 
am  very  glad?  I  know  that  with  returning 
health  you  will  find  success  in  your  chosen 
field. 

As  an  invalid  I  suppose  it  did  not  much 


98  MOLLY  AND  I 

matter  whether  you  were  married  or  not  but 
now  that  you  are  on  the  road  to  recovery  it 
is  not  fair  to  hamper  your  career  with  a 
"wished  on"  wife.  Therefore  I  shall  make 
the  arrangements  for  our  divorce.  It  will 
take  some  little  time  as  I  shall  have  to  sue  on 
the  grounds  of  desertion  and  I  cannot  do  that 
in  this  state,  but  you  may  have  absolute  lib- 
erty as  soon  as  possible. 

I  am  glad  that  we  have  been  of  so  much 
benefit  to  each  other  and  as  I  shall  have  no 
further  occasion  to  communicate  with  you, 
permit  me  to  thank  you  again  for  being  such 
a  nice  husband. 

Yours  sincerely, 
Mary  Smith. 

He  was  to  be  free,  —  his  life  was  re- 
turned to  him  with  a  future  all  his  own,  — 
every  path  to  choose  from,  no  avenue 
closed  to  him  either  socially  or  in  the  line 
of  his  profession. 

No  wonder,  then,  that  the  typewriter 
raced  away,  putting  in  form  the  hap- 


AN  APARTMENT  FOR  ONE    99 

piness  that  sang  in  his  brain.  Under 
such  conditions  why  shouldn't  he  write 
until  all  the  blank  paper  in  the  world  was 
covered  with  words  saleable  at  a  price 
varying  from  half  a  cent  to  ten  cents 
apiece? 

* '  Ding-a-ling-a-ling ! ' '  interrupted  the 
telephone. 

"Damn!"  said  the  author,  breaking  off 
in  the  midst  of  an  elaborate  twenty-cent 
sentence. 

"Can  Marian  and  I  come  in  for  a 
minute?"  asked  Jack  over  the  'phone. 

At  first  he  was  tempted  to  send  them 
away  without  seeing  them;  then  he  remem- 
bered how  kind  these  two  had  been  when 
he  had  no  other  friends,  and  invited  them 
up.  Usually  Marian  had  never  come  ex- 
cept when  he  was  in  the  mood  to  be  in- 
terrupted. 

"Don't  look  cross,"  she  admonished, 
smiling  her  most  engaging  smile.  "We're 


100  MOLLY  AND  I 

only  going  to  stop  a  minute.  I  can  tell 
by  the  feel  of  the  air  in  this  room  that  the 
work  is  going  splendidly,  but  I  thought 
you  wouldn't  mind  knocking  off  a  minute 
for  the  pleasure  of  bidding  me  good-bye." 

"I  can't  see  that  bidding  you  good-bye 
is  any  pleasure  at  all,"  replied  Philip. 

"For  which  she  said  'Thank  you.'" 
Marian  dropped  him  a  mock  curtesy. 

"Incidentally,"  Jack  broke  in,  "I've 
brought  you  several  pictures  to  make  the 
place  look  a  little  more  real.  I  regret  that 
most  of  them  are  things  that  I  have  done 
myself.  Do  you  mind  if  I  put  them 
up?" 

"I  should  say  not.  I  was  wondering 
what  I  could  do  to  liven  up  this  wall- 
paper. Thanks." 

Jack  discovered  a  hammer  and  some 
nails  in  the  kitchenette  and  made  a 
tour  of  the  room,  sticking  up  line  draw- 
ings and  water  colors  here  and  there 


AN  APARTMENT  FOR  ONE    101 

with  nonchalant  disregard  for  that  clause 
in  Philip's  lease  which  specified  that  "no 
nails  or  tacks  shall  be  driven  into  the 
walls." 

"Now,"  demanded  Philip,  when  Jack 
was  started  on  his  self-imposed  task, 
"explain  about  this  *  good-bye'  business. 
Where  are  you  going  and  why  don't  you 
take  us  along?" 

"I'm  going  to  visit  relatives  in  Boston 
and  I  believe  that  also  answers  your  sec- 
ond question  as  to  why  I  don't  take  you 
along.  It's  bad  enough  to  visit  one's 
own  relatives  without  involving  yourself 
in  anyone  else's.  I'm  a  black  sheep  in 
our  family  but  I  have  to  go  back  once  a 
year  to  show  the  rest  of  them  that  'the 
life  I  am  leading'  as  they  call  it,  has  not 
yet  ruined  my  face  and  my  figure.  Some 
year  my  mirror  is  going  to  forbid  my  re- 
turn; then  they'll  have  to  look  me  up  to 
learn  the  truth." 


102  MOLLY  AND  I 

"The  trip  accounts  for  the  new  uniform, 
doesn't  it?" 

"Yes.  Thanks  for  noticing.  Do  you 
like  it?" 

She  turned  slowly  for  his  inspection. 
Her  dress  was  a  dull  green  velvet,  edged 
with  black  fur.  Simple  in  design  as  all  her 
costumes  were,  it  fitted  with  the  smooth- 
ness of  a  fine  leather  book-binding.  A 
narrow  line  of  the  fur  around  the  low, 
square-cut  collar  of  the  dress  emphasized 
the  ivory  of  her  neck,  and  with  her  dark 
hair  framed  the  dusky,  healthy  beauty  of 
her  face.  Her  cheeks  dull  red  from  the 
brisk  walk  she  had  just  taken  in  the  early 
fall  air,  she  might  have  passed  for  the  per- 
sonification of  autumn. 

"It's  a  corker,"  admitted  Philip,  with 
frank  admiration.  "You  look  as  if  you 
might  be  a  pleasant  dream  being  had  by 
the  Czar  of  Russia." 

"A  trifle  involved,  but  still  understood." 


AN  APARTMENT  FOR  ONE    103 

"Hand  me  that  hammer,  will  you," 
said  Jack  from  a  chair,  "before  I  swallow 
this  nail." 

"Certainly,"  Philip  did  as  requested, 
"although  as  far  as  that  goes  we  have 
plenty  more  nails." 

"Tell  me,  if  you  don't  mind,"  suggested 
Marian,  "what  you  are  so  happy  about." 

"Do  I  seem  oppressively  cheerful?" 

"Yes,  and  I  want  to  be  in  on  it.  Good- 
ness knows  I  need  something  to  brighten 
up  life  among  the  relatives." 

"I've  been  getting  along  well  with  my 
writing." 

"Is  that  all?"  she  searched  his  face. 
"No,  it  isn't." 

He  admitted  that  she  was  right. 

"My  wife  is  getting  a  divorce."  He 
smiled  at  the  idea  of  being  cheerful  at 
such  a  comic-weekly  situation. 

Marian  looked  at  him  with  an  added 
sparkle  in  her  eye. 


104  MOLLY  AND  I 

"I  am  about  to  be  returned  to  the  cir- 
culating library,"  added  Philip,  recalling 
a  figure  he  had  used  when  they  first  met. 
"Apparently  I  am  not  very  interesting 
reading.  I'm  wondering  if  anyone  else 
will  care  to  take  me  out." 

"I'm  glad  you  are  free,"  Marian  said 
simply.  A  sudden  constraint  had  come 
over  her  and  she  dropped  her  glance  like 
a  schoolgirl. 

Philip  took  a  step  toward  her  and  raised 
her  hand  in  his  own.  The  touch  of  her 
fingers  sent  a  compelling  thrill  through 
him. 

"So  am  I,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone,  "be- 
cause now  I  can  — " 

"All  finished  for  the  time  being,"  an- 
nounced Jack,  dropping  the  hammer  to 
attract  attention.  "Pardon  me  for  break- 
ing up  this  John  Drew  scene,  but  we'll 
have  to  leave  if  you're  going  to  catch  the 
Boston  express." 


AN  APARTMENT  FOR  ONE     105 

"When  will  you  be  back?"  asked  Philip, 
an  eager  light  in  his  eyes. 

"Soon,"  Marian  replied. 

"I'll  take  dinner  with  you  when  I've 
put  Marian  on  the  train,"  Jack  suggested, 
looking  at  his  watch. 

"Yes,  —  call  here  for  me.  We'll  be 
lonesome  together." 

"Thanks  for  the  compliment."  Marian 
stood  at  the  door,  a  picture  of  vivid  life 
and  color.  "Please  miss  me  a  lot,"  she 
smiled  wistfully,  then  added,  "both  of 

you." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

IS  NOT   LAKGE   ENOUGH   FOB   TWO 


they  were  gone  he  returned  to 
his  typewriter  and  wrote  a  single 
sentence,  then  laughed.  What  was  the 
use  of  trying  to  arouse  enthusiasm  about 
a  paper  and  ink  heroine  when  a  creature 
like  that  had  stood  within  two  feet  of  him, 
begging  him  with  eyes  and  lips  and  soul 
to  take  her  in  his  arms?  After  all,  liter- 
ature was  pretty  thin  stuff  when  you 
turned  the  limelight  on  it  and  compared 
it  to  flesh  and  blood. 

He  closed  the  machine.  There  was  no 
use  trying  to  do  more  that  day.  You 
can't  write  "he  said"  and  "she  mur- 
mured softly"  when  you  are  thinking  of 
a  kiss  you  almost  had. 


NOT  ENOUGH  FOR  TWO    107 

There  was  one  thing  he  could  do.  He 
had  not  told  her  yet  that  he  loved  her  and 
he  would  write  it.  Setting  the  typewriter 
one  side  he  got  out  a  pen  and  prepared  to 
compose  the  first  love-letter  he  had  written 
since  he  was  a  youth.  Somehow  it  didn't 
come  as  easily  as  it  had  when  he  was 
seventeen  and  had  felt  undying  passion 
for  a  college  girl  of  twenty. 

At  the  end  of  an  hour  he  had  destroyed 
half  a  dozen  sheets  of  paper  and  sat  with 
the  note  half  completed,  staring  out  across 
the  house-tops  to  the  river,  over  which  a 
fog  was  creeping  as  the  evening  began  to 
come  on. 

There  was  a  rap  at  the  door,  —  Jack 
returning  for  dinner  probably.  Philip 
shouted  "Come  in,"  and  returned  to  his 
search  for  ideas  among  the  house-tops  of 
New  York. 

After  a  moment  he  asked,  "Where'll  we 
eat?" 


108  MOLLY  AND  I 

There  was  no  answer.  Philip  turned 
toward  the  door. 

It  stood  open,  and  in  its  frame,  softly 
illumined  by  the  fading  light  of  day,  was 
a  picture  from  a  European  guide-book. 
It  was  a  girl,  and  after  a  hasty  glance  at 
her  garments  Philip  decided  that  no  one 
could  be  loose  in  New  York  dressed  that 
way  except  an  emigrant  just  released  from 
Ellis  Island.  The  bodice  of  laced  blue 
velvet  over  a  very  full,  short  skirt,  a  vari- 
colored shawl  and  a  cloth  head-dress  in- 
stead of  a  hat  over  her  flaxen  hair  reminded 
him  of  the  peasant  chorus  of  a  grand  opera. 
The  feet  were  even  more  unmistakable. 
At  the  ends  of  white-stockinged  legs  they 
were  encased  in  a  pair  of  very  heavy, 
wooden-soled  shoes. 

She  was  really  very  tiny  after  you  dis- 
counted the  voluminous  clothing  and  her 
face  had  the  wide-eyed  trustfulness  of  a 
child's.  Yet  from  the  length  of  her  skirts 


NOT  ENOUGH  FOR  TWO     109 

and  the  way  her  hair  was  done  up  on  her 
head  it  was  evident  that  she,  or  someone, 
thought  she  was  a  grown  woman.  The 
general  impression  she  gave  was  that  of 
somebody's  little  girl  who  has  dressed  up 
in  mother's  clothes. 

Swallowing  his  astonishment,  Philip  mo- 
tioned her  in  and  asked  politely,  "What 
can  I  do  for  you?" 

She  came  forward  a  few  steps,  making  a 
racket  thereby  like  dropping  an  armful 
of  stove-wood  into  a  box  and  said,  "Das 
versteh' ich nicht.  Ich  habe  kein  Englisch.'' 

"You  don't  understand?"  he  repeated 
in  English.  "You've  got  nothing  on  me. 
All  the  German  I  know  is  locked  away  with 
my  college  diploma.  What  are  we  going 
to  do  about  it?" 

The  German  girl  apparently  took  this 
as  an  invitation  to  stay  because  she  ad- 
vanced several  feet  further  into  the  room. 

"Ich  suche  eine  Stelle." 


110  MOLLY  AND  I 

"Her  name  is  Stella,"  murmured  the 
author,  "but  I  can't  make  out  the  rest  of 
it." 

The  hall-boy  from  below  entered  the 
open  door  with  breathless  haste.  Strangely 
enough  in  an  ocean  of  colored  hall-boys 
he  was  a  white  island,  a  freckled  one  at 
that,  with  the  build  of  a  jockey  and  the 
alertness  of  a  bantam. 

"Aw,  there  you  are,"  he  exclaimed  to 
the  girl,  then  turning  to  Philip  he  ex- 
plained apologetically,  "  I  stepped  out 
for  a  minute  and  she  got  in  the  main 
entrance  without  me  seeing  her  and 
run  upstairs.  I  been  looking  for  her  on 
every  floor.  Servants  ain't  allowed  to 
come  in  that  way.  You'll  have  to  tell 
her." 

"She's  not  my  servant,"  denied  Philip, 
"and  I  can't  tell  her  anything  because  she 
doesn't  understand  English." 

"Oh!    She  looks  Dutch,  don't  she?" 


NOT  ENOUGH  FOR  TWO     111 

The  girl  turned  an  uncomprehending 
gaze  from  one  to  the  other  of  them  as 
they  spoke,  and  smiled  encouragingly  on 
both  as  if  everything  they  said  was  a  per- 
sonal compliment. 

"Do  you  speak  any  German?"  inquired 
Philip  of  the  boy. 

"Sure,  —  my  folks  is  Dutch  and  we 
speak  it  a  lot  at  home." 

"Then  ask  her  what  it  is  she  wants." 

"All  right.  I'll  try  her  out."  The  boy 
turned  to  the  doll-like  creature  and  spoke 
rapidly.  "Sagen  Sie  mir  was  Sie  wiin- 
schen." 

The  girl's  face  lighted  up  with  the  first 
look  of  intelligence  she  had  displayed  since 
her  arrival.  She  laughed  like  a  pleased 
baby. 

"Ich  suche  eine  Stelle." 

The  boy  translated  to  Philip,  "She 
wants  a  job  as  maid." 

"Well,  I  certainly  hope  she  gets  it." 


MOLLY  AND  I 

"  She  means  she  wants  to  work  for  you, 
boss." 

The  girl  made  an  apparently  unsuccess- 
ful attempt  to  read  in  their  faces  what 
they  were  talking  about. 

"I  haven't  any  more  use  for  a  maid 
than  I  have  for  a  wooden-legged  kanga- 
roo. You  tell  her  I  can't  pay  for  any 
help." 

The  boy  put  that  in  German. 

This  let  loose  a  perfect  torrent  of  lan- 
guage from  the  seeker  after  employment 
which  ended  up  in  a  flood  of  tears. 

"Why  did  you  threaten  to  strike  her?" 
demanded  Philip. 

"I  didn't,  boss,  so  help  me.  Honest,  I 
just  told  her  what  you  said  and  she  said 
she  didn't  care  about  the  pay.  She's  up 
against  it,  says  she  just  arrived  from  Ger- 
many all  alone.  Her  folks  are  all  dead  and 
she  doesn't  know  what  to  do  or  where  to 
go." 


NOT  ENOUGH  FOR  TWO     113 

"Poor  kid.  No  wonder  it  makes  her 
weep.  She's  rather  pretty  too,  isn't  she?" 
Philip  cast  an  appraising  glance  at  the 
tear-stained  face.  She  was  little  more 
than  a  baby,  he  thought.  "But  look  at 
those  feet.  There  is  no  danger  of  her  ever 
losing  her  balance,  is  there?" 

The  intruder  wiped  away  a  tear  with  a 
corner  of  her  apron  and  smiled  once  more 
a  timid,  ingratiating  smile. 

"Mir  gefallt  er,"  she  declared  to  the 
boy.  "Er  ist  ein  so  schmucker  Herr," 
then  cast  down  her  eyes  shyly. 

"What  was  that?"    Philip  demanded.' 

"She  says  that  she  likes  you  because 
you  are  so  handsome." 

"She  is  a  very  discerning  young  person, 
isn't  she?  However  I  can't  give  her  a  job 
even  if  I  am  beautiful." 

"Hier  ist  es  schon."  The  girl  laid  aside 
her  shawl.  "Kann  ich  gleich  anfangen?" 

"She    thinks    this    is    a    nice    place," 


114  MOLLY  AND  I 

translated  the  hall-boy,  "and  she  wants 
to  go  to  work  right  now." 

"No,  no,"  protested  Philip  in  alarm. 
"It  won't  do.  She  mustn't  stay  here. 
She'll  have  to  hunt  up  some  place  to  stay 
to-night;  then  to-morrow  she'll  get  a  job 
all  right." 

"Was  meinte  er?"  The  puzzled  for- 
eigner appealed  to  her  interpreter. 

"She  wants  to  know  what  you're  say- 
ing. I  guess  I'd  better  tell  her  that  you 
can't  give  her  a  job."  He  turned  to 
the  girl.  "Er  kann  Ihnen  keine  Arbeit 
geben." 

She  burst  into  tears  again. 

"Ich  weiss  nicht,  wo  ich  hin  soil,"  she 
sobbed. 

"What's  that?"  Philip  inquired  anx- 
iously. 

"She  has  no  place  to  go." 

"Ask  her  if  she  has  any  money?" 

"HabenSieGeld?" 


NOT  ENOUGH  FOR  TWO     115 

The  girl  stopped  crying  long  enough  to 
murmur,  "Nur  wenig,"  and  opened  her 
tightly-clenched  fist  to  show  a  few  pieces 
of  copper  money  which  she  apparently 
had  carried  all  the  way  across  the  Atlantic 
in  that  manner. 

"That  isn't  very  much  to  begin  a  career 
on,  is  it?"  Philip  was  thinking  how 
hostile  New  York  could  be  to  the  penni- 
less stranger  within  her  gates.  "We  can't 
turn  her  out  into  the  street  without  money 
enough  for  a  bed  and  breakfast.  Here  — " 
He  took  from  his  pocket  a  small  roll  from 
which  he  extracted  a  five-dollar  bill  and 
handed  it  to  her. 

She  put  it  back  in  his  hand  with  an 
engaging  smile. 

"Erst  nach  ein  paar  Wochen  will  ich 
den  Lohn." 

Philip  looked  inquiringly  at  the  in- 
terpreter, who  by  this  time  had  be- 
come so  interested  in  the  game  that 


116  MOLLY  AND  I 

he  had  forgotten  his  duties  in  the  hall 
below. 

"She  says  not  to  pay  her  until  she  has 
worked  for  you  a  couple  of  weeks." 

"Poor  beautiful  idiot,"  commiserated 
Philip.  "I  suppose  she  doesn't  under- 
stand that  I  am  giving  her  this  to  get  rid 
of  her.  God  knows  that  face  will  haunt 
me  for  months,  —  and  those  feet.  I  feel 
like  a  criminal  to  turn  her  out  to  the  mercy 
of  the  street,  but  I  can't  do  anything  for 
her.  It's  like  striking  a  baby  in  the  face 
but  I've  got  to  do  it." 

He  took  her  firmly  by  the  arm  and  led 
her  unresistingly  to  the  door,  amid  the 
clatter  of  wooden  shoes.  He  held  the 
portal  wide  open  suggestively. 

"If  only  she  wouldn't  smile  so  idioti- 
cally, as  if  I  were  doing  her  a  favor.  She's 
like  a  doll  with  the  expression  painted  on. 
Here  — "he  placed  the  bill  firmly  in  her 
hand  —  "  nehmen  Sie  this  —  take  it  —  in 


NOT  ENOUGH  FOR  TWO     117 

German  or  English  as  you  like,  and  go, 
—  gehe  —  vamoose  —  exit  —  scat!" 
He  gave  her  a  gentle  push  toward  the 
hall. 

"Er  will  mich  nicht,"  she  inquired,  in 
pathetic  tones.  "Ich  sollte  eigentlich 
fort?" 

"Ja."  Then  to  Philip  the  boy  said, 
"I'll  go  with  her  and  put  her  out." 

He  took  the  girl  by  the  hand  and  led 
her  away. 

Philip  closed  the  door  but  he  did  not 
succeed  in  shutting  out  her  presence  be- 
cause for  a  full  minute  he  heard  the 
"clump  —  clump"  of  those  wooden-soled 
shoes  on  the  stairs  and  every  "clump" 
reminded  him  of  the  pathetic  little  figure 
going  out  so  inadequately  equipped  to  do 
battle  with  the  city. 

Once  he  started  to  go  after  her  to  call 
her  back,  impelled  by  the  thought  of  her 
helplessness  in  a  strange  city,  but  he 


118  MOLLY  AND  I 

turned  back.  What  could  he  do  to  help 
her?  Perhaps  she  would  meet  someone 
who  could  do  more  than  he  toward  plac- 
ing her  in  the  way  of  employment. 

The  clatter  of  the  wooden  shoes  grew 
fainter,  then  died  away  entirely.  Almost 
immediately  there  was  the  sound  of  an 
automobile  engine  being  started  in  the 
street  below.  Maybe,  thought  Philip,  her 
fairy  godmother  had  met  her  in  the  street 
and  had  turned  one  of  her  shoes  into  a 
motor  car  —  it  was  big  enough,  —  and  now 
she  was  being  whirled  away  like  Cinder- 
ella going  to  the  ball  in  her  pumpkin 
coach. 


CHAPTER  IX 

NOT  EVEN  IF  ONE  IS  A  VERY   SMALL   GIRL 

1LJE  turned  on  the  lights  and  went  back 
to  his  desk.  The  unfinished  letter  to 
Marian  lay  face  up  before  him.  He  read 
it  through  and  pushed  it  aside.  That 
could  wait  until  to-morrow. 

Under  cover  of  darkness  a  storm  had 
been  creeping  stealthily  over  the  city  and 
now  with  a  few  preliminary  crashes  of 
artillery  started  a  fusillade  of  rain  that 
beat  gustily  at  the  windows.  It  was  one 
of  those  sullen  autumn  storms  in  which 
the  elements  seem  out  of  temper,  snarling 
and  hissing  at  the  world  and  every  once 
in  a  while  when  their  rage  is  sufficiently 
worked  up,  shooting  out  cruel,  forked 
tongues  of  light  that  deal  destruction 
where  they  touch. 


120  MOLLY  AND  I 

It  was  pretty  hard  luck  for  the  emigrant 
girl,  thought  Philip,  to  be  out  alone  and 
homeless  in  such  weather.  Probably  by 
this  time,  however,  she  was  under  shelter. 
It  was  lucky  he  had  given  her  that  five 
dollars.  He  would  forget  all  about  her. 
A  man  couldn't  carry  the  burdens  of  every 
helpless  vagrant  he  came  in  contact  with. 
Still,  that  trusting  face  with  its  ingratiat- 
ing smile  refused  to  be  driven  out  of  his 
mind.  But  why  should  he  care?  He, 
Philip  Smith,  had  not  been  appointed 
guardian  of  all  the  emigrant  girls  in  the 
world.  She  would  have  to  look  out  for 
herself. 

He  looked  at  his  watch,  a  dollar  affair, 
and  because  the  hands  stood  at  eight 
o'clock  he  estimated  that  it  must  be  about 
six.  It  gained  regularly  four  hours  a  day 
and  he  had  set  it  in  the  morning.  After 
you  got  used  to  the  mathematics  of  the 
thing  you  could  tell  the  hour  by  it  just  as 


NOT  EVEN  IF  ONE  IS  SMALL    121 

well  as  by  a  full-jeweled  repeater.  Any- 
way it  was  time  for  Jack  to  return  for  the 
evening  meal.  Philip  left  the  desk  and 
dressed  for  dinner.  This  was  not  so 
elaborate  a  process  as  you  might  suppose, 
consisting  as  it  did  of  washing  his  hands 
and  face  and  putting  on  a  clean  collar  and 
his  other  tie. 

The  storm  outside  put  on  a  few  extra 
flourishes  in  the  way  of  thunder  and 
lightning.  The  whole  world  reverber- 
ated and  jarred  in  sympathy.  Owing 
to  that  Philip  did  not  at  first  hear 
the  rapping  at  his  door.  It  was  repeated 
insistently. 

At  last  in  a  lull  it  caught  his  ear  and  he 
shouted,  "Come  in." 

The  door  opened  slowly. 

For  a  ten-second  interval  Philip  gazed 
in  helpless  amazement  at  his  visitor  while 
her  clothes,  absolutely  soaked  through, 
dripped  tiny  puddles  on  the  floor. 


122  MOLLY  AND  I 

"Great  Scott,  you  again!"  he  finally 
ejaculated. 

"Ja,"  she  answered,  evidently  inter- 
preting his  tones  if  not  his  words.  "Das 
Geld  habe  ich  verloren,  da  fing's  an  zu 
regnen;  ich  wusste  nicht  wo  ich  hin  sollte; 
so  bin  ich  zu  Ihnen  zuriickgekommen. 
Sie  sehen  ja  so  freundlich  aus!" 

"Yes,  of  course,"  returned  Philip,  feel- 
ing that  he  was  called  upon  to  say  some- 
thing in  the  interval,  "in  some  respects 
you  are  right,  although  there  is  a  good 
deal  to  be  said  on  the  other  side." 

She  started  to  smile  at  him  uncom- 
prehendingly  but  an  extra  loud  crash  of 
thunder  changed  her  expression  to  one  of 
terror  and  dropping  to  her  knees  she  has- 
tily murmured  a  jargon  which  must  have 
been  a  German  prayer.  She  was  evidently 
rushing  it  through  in  order  to  get  her  pe- 
tition on  file  before  the  elements  cut  loose 
again. 


NOT  EVEN  IF  ONE  IS  SMALL    123 

"The  poor  kid  is  frightened,"  said 
Philip  to  himself.  "I  wonder  if  they 
don't  have  thunder  in  Germany.  They 
haven't  needed  any  since  Wagner's  time. 
She's  so  wet  I  suppose  she'll  catch  cold, 
too."  He  held  out  his  hand  toward  her. 
"Come  here,"  he  commanded. 

She  looked  up. 

He  repeated  more  loudly  as  if  that 
would  make  any  difference  in  her  under- 
standing. "Come  here!"  He  motioned 
her  toward  him. 

She  scrambled  to  her  feet  hastily  and 
came  to  him,  cringing  a  little  as  if  she  ex- 
pected him  to  strike  her. 

"Where  is  your  money?"  he  asked 
sternly. 

"What's  German  for  money?"  he  asked 
himself.  "I  remember,  —  Geld.  Where 
is  Geld?" 

A  beatific  smile  broke  over  her  anxious 
features  and  she  held  up  a  small  piece  of 


124  MOLLY  AND  I 

the  five-dollar  bill  which  was  firmly 
clenched  in  her  hands.  The  rest  of  it 
had  been  torn  off. 

Philip  examined  it. 

"What  happened  to  the  rest  of  it?"  he 
asked,  then  muttered  to  himself/'  Why  can't 
I  remember  a  couple  of  German  words?" 

He  went  through  the  motions  of  tearing 
up  the  bill  and  throwing  it  away,  looking 
at  her  inquiringly. 

The  girl  laughed  and  shook  her  head. 

"Nein,  nein.  Ein  kleines  grimes  Katz- 
chen  hat  es  gefressen." 

"Wait  a  minute,"  Philip  stopped  her. 
"I  almost  understood  part  of  that.  What 
did  you  say?" 

She  understood  and  repeated  slowly. 
"Ein  kleines—" 

"A  little,"  he  translated. 

"Grimes—  " 

"A  little  green  — " 

"Katzchen—  " 


NOT  EVEN  IF  ONE  IS  SMALL    125 

"Kitten.     A  little  green  kitten  — " 

"Hates—" 

"Has  it—" 

"Gefressen."  She  looked  at  him  anx- 
iously to  see  if  he  comprehended. 

He  shook  his  head. 

"I  can't  get  that  'gefressen'  thing." 

"Gefressen,  gefressen,"  she  reiterated, 
going  through  the  motions  of  chewing  and 
swallowing.  "Gefressen." 

"Eating.  I  understand.  A  little  green 
kitten  has  it  eaten.  I  wonder  if  you  are 
kidding  me  in  German.  A  little  green 
kitten  has  eaten  my  five  dollars.  There's 
something  wrong  with  my  German  some- 
where." 

A  crash  of  thunder  brought  the  girl  to 
her  knees  again.  He  took  her  hand  and 
raised  her  gently. 

"It's  all  right,"  he  said,  soothingly. 
"Don't  be  scared.  Uncle  Dudley  will 
protect  you.  You  can  stay  here  until  the 


126  MOLLY  AND  I 

storm  is  over.  Then  I'll  find  you  a  place 
to  sleep  until  you  get  a  job.  We  must 
first  change  your  clothes.  I  don't  know 
how  we  are  going  to  do  it  without  being  a 
fairy  queen,  but  you're  so  wet  we've  got 
to  do  something."  He  led  her  to  the 
rocking  chair.  "Sit  down."  He  motioned 
her  to  take  a  seat. 

She  did  so,  regarding  her  benefactor 
with  childlike  interest. 

"First  let's  get  these  off."  He  knelt  at 
her  feet  and  unfastened  the  heavy  shoes. 
Taking  one  of  them  off  he  held  it  up. 
"Your  education  may  as  well  begin  right 
now!"  Pointing  to  the  shoe  he  repeated 
slowly  and  with  emphasis,  "  Shoe,  —  shoe, 
-  shoe." 

She  smiled  with  quick  comprehension. 

"Choo,  —  choo,  —  choo,"  she  said. 

"  No,  this  isn't  a  railroad  train.  Listen." 
He  spoke  more  deliberately  and  more 
loudly  each  time.  "Shoe, — shoe, — shoe." 


NOT  EVEN  IF  ONE  IS  SMALL    127 

She  imitated  him  as  closely  as  possible, 
also  shouting  louder  on  each  repetition, 
"Choo,  —  choo,  --  choo." 

"The  train  is  approaching.  Very  fair 
imitation  without  props." 

He  started  to  take  off  her  other  boot. 
"Great  Scott,  look  at  what  was  inside  of 
this."  He  held  up  a  very  tiny  foot  en- 
closed in  a  floppy,  wet,  white  stocking. 
"You  seem  to  have  shrunk  since  you  got 
wet." 

She  laughed  and  cooed,  "Choo — choo— 
choo." 

"She  learns  quickly,"  said  Philip,  chiefly 
to  himself.  "I  wonder  if  I  could  teach 
her  to  say  'I  love  you'?" 

"I  —  love  -  -  you,"  repeated  the  girl 
slowly. 

"No,  no,  you  mustn't."  He  was  kneel- 
ing in  front  of  her,  struggling  with  a  re- 
fractory knot  in  the  piece  of  string  which 
was  doing  substitute  duty  for  a  shoe-lace. 


128  MOLLY  AND  I 

"It's  funny  how  easy  it  is  to  teach  a 
woman  to  say  that.  Before  we  go  any 
further  suppose  you  tell  me  what  your 
name  is.  Listen.  What  is  your  name?" 

The  girl  looked  anxiously  in  his  face  but 
remained  dumb. 

He  pointed  to  her.  "Name  —  name  — 
name." 

She  repeated  carefully,  "  Name  —  name 
—  name." 

"No,  wait."  He  pointed  to  himself 
and  said  distinctly,  "Philip  Smith." 

She  made  the  same  gesture  toward  her- 
self and  said,  "Philip  Smith." 

"No,  no.  Me  Philip  Smith,  —  you 
what?" 

"Ach!"  Her  face  wreathed  in  smiles. 
"Mein  Name  ist  Sophia  Abendthaler." 

"Sophia  Abendthaler.  It  ain't  possible. 
You  got  that  name  where  you  bought 
those  shoes.  We've  got  to  have  some  name 
that  fits  you  with  the  shoes  off."  He 


NOT  EVEN  IF  ONE  IS  SMALL    129 

thought  a  moment  and  then  said,  impres- 
sively, '"Your  name  is  Molly,  —  Molly, 
-Molly!" 

She  laughed.  "Mein  Name  ist  Molly- 
mollymolly.  Und  Sie,  —  Sie  sind  Uncle 
Sam." 

"No,  —  Philip  Smith." 

"Nein,—  Uncle  Sam." 

"Have  it  your  own  way.  I  suppose 
that  is  the  only  English  name  you 
know.  I'll  be  Uncle  Sam."  He  drew 
off  the  shoe  and  placed  it  beside  the 
first. 

"Soil  ich  mir  die  Striimpfe  ausziehen?" 
she  inquired. 

"I  don't  get  you,  but  whatever  you  say 
is  all  right." 

She  repeated  her  question,  indicating  her 
stockings. 

"Oh  yes.  I  suppose  you'll  have  to.  I'll 
turn  my  back." 

He  examined  one  of  the  new  pictures 


130  MOLLY  AND  I 

on  the  wall  until  she  said  "Fertig,"  then 
returned  to  find  her  wiggling  two  sets  of 
tiny  pink  toes. 

"Das  is  der  Daumen,"  she  indicated  a 
big  toe,  "der  schiittelte  die  Pflaumen — " 

"I  know  that.  This  little  pig  went  to 
market."  She  laughed.  He  removed  the 
head-dress  from  her  hair  and  the  shawl 
from  her  shoulders. 

She  stood  and  started  to  take  off  her 
skirt. 

"Just  a  minute.  Before  we  go  any 
further  let's  find  something  to  put  on  after 
you  get  that  off." 

He  went  to  the  tiny  closet  which  con- 
tained his  wardrobe  and  brought  a  gaudy, 
warm-looking  dressing-gown  and  from  his 
trunk  he  produced  a  suit  of  pajamas. 

"This  is  the  best  I  can  do  for  a  lady," 
he  apologized.  "You  can  put  them  on  in 
the  bathroom  and  we'll  try  to  dry  out 
your  own  clothes  before  you  leave." 


NOT  EVEN  IF  ONE  IS  SMALL    131 

He  led  her  to  the  bathroom  and  handed 
her  the  things.  She  nodded  and  smiled 
brightly  to  show  that  she  understood  and 
went  in. 

Philip  returned  to  the  rocking-chair  and 
spread  out  the  wet  shawl,  head-dress  and 
stockings.  The  heavy  shoes  he  picked  up 
and  examined  curiously,  then  thoughtfully 
let  one  of  them  drop  to  the  floor  with  a 
loud  thump. 

"Cinderella,"  he  murmured. 


CHAPTER  X 

SO   THE   GIRL  WILL  HAVE   TO   LEAVE 

HHHERE  was  a  rap  at  the  door.    Jack,  of 

.  course,  —  he  had  forgotten  about  him. 
Philip  grabbed  the  clothes  with  one  arm 
and  threw  them  into  the  kitchenette, 
picked  up  a  pipe,  sat  down  and  started  to 
light  it. 

"Come  in." 

"All  ready?"  queried  Jack  briskly. 
"It's  raining  pitchforks  out  to-night  so 
let's  eat  in  the  cafe  downstairs." 

"All  right,"  assented  Philip.  "Suppose 
you  go  down  and  order  for  me.  I'll  be 
down  in  a  minute." 

"There's  no  hurry.  I'll  wait  until  you 
wash  up." 

"It  isn't  a  question  of  washing.  I've 
got  a  letter  to  write." 


SO  THE   GIRL  WILL  LEAVE    133 

"Go  ahead,  then.  I'll  wash  up  a  bit 
myself  while  you're  doing  it."  Jack  started 
for  the  bathroom. 

"Just  a  minute,  —  don't  go  in  there." 

"Why  not?" 

"I've  got  some  negatives  developing  in 
there  and  if  you  open  the  door  they'll  be 
light-struck." 

"Oh,  I  didn't  know  that  you  were  in- 
terested in  photography." 

"Yes,  extensively.  You  can  order  a 
steak  for  me  and  whatever  vegetables 
sound  interesting." 

He  took  his  friend  by  the  arm  and  was 
about  to  lead  him  to  the  hall  when  the 
bathroom  door  opened  and  the  emigrant 
girl  stood  gazing  in  startled  surprise  at  the 
strange  man.  She  was  an  unexpected 
picture,  herself,  even  to  Philip,  who  had  seen 
the  pajamas  and  dressing-gown  before. 

The  legs  and  arms  of  the  pajamas  had 
been  constructed  to  cover  about  six  feet 


134  MOLLY  AND  I 

and  a  half  of  man  and  lapped  over  con- 
siderably on  the  five-foot  occupant.  The 
dressing-gown,  too,  of  generous  propor- 
tions, made  her  look  as  if  a  circus  tent  had 
collapsed  over  her. 

After  the  first  shock  of  surprise  was 
over,  the  girl  dropped  a  curtesy  and 
smiled. 

"As  a  photographer,  Phil,"  said  Jack, 
sotto  voce,  "you're  a  great  success." 

"You  might  as  well  know  the  truth," 
said  Philip.  " This  is  a  girl." 

"I  am  astonished  at  your  frankness." 

"After  I  present  you  I'll  tell  you  about 
her."  He  took  the  girl  by  the  arm  and 
led  her  down  the  steps.  "Molly,  this  is 
Mr.  Herrick." 

She  started  to  give  him  her  hand,  dis- 
covered that  it  was  covered  by  the  dang- 
ling end  of  a  sleeve  and  laughed.  She  held 
it  out  mutely  to  Philip  to  be  fixed.  He 
rolled  back  the  cuff. 


"As  a  photographer,  Phil,"  said  Jack,  sotto  voce,  "you're 
a  great  success." 


SO  THE   GIRL  WILL  LEAVE     135 

She  gravely  shook  hands  with  the  artist. 

"How  do  you  do?"  murmured  Jack, 
deeply  mystified. 

"Wie  geht's,  Herr  Herrick,  du  kleiner 
Schema?" 

"What  did  she  say? 

"Don't  you  understand  German?" 

"Not  a  word.  I  can  worry  along  in 
French  but  German  is  beyond  me." 

"That  makes  it  a  good  deal  easier  for 
me  to  translate  what  she  says  to  you. 
Just  then  she  remarked  that  her  great 
uncle  who  was  shot  wore  a  suit  just  like 
the  one  you've  got  on." 

"I  don't  believe  she  said  that." 

"I  assure  you,"  said  Philip  gravely, 
"that  what  I  said  is  as  near  an  exact 
translation  of  her  speech  as  it  is  possible 
for  me  to  give.  Of  course  you  understand 
the  German  language  is  more  flexible  than 
ours  and  it  is  impossible  to  get  the  shades 
of  meaning  in  the  English  equivalent." 


136  MOLLY  AND  I 

"Oh.  Now  supposing  you  tell  me  what 
it  is  all  about."  Then  seeing  from  Phil- 
ip's eye  that  he  was  casting  about  in  his 
mind  for  an  explanation,  Jack  went  on, 
"You  might  just  as  well  tell  the  truth  be- 
cause I'll  believe  it's  a  lie  anyway  and  you 
can  save  your  imaginative  faculties  for 
your  stories." 

"You  wrong  me  because  I  wouldn't 
waste  fiction  on  a  person  of  your  caliber. 
The  absolute  truth  of  the  matter  is  that 
she  is  a  girl  you  adopted  when  you  were 
abroad  this  summer  and  when  she  arrived 
this  afternoon  you  weren't  home  so  I  took 
her  in  and  gave  her  some  dry  clothes  to 
wear  until  you  came." 

Having  ordered  dinner  to  be  sent  up  to 
the  apartment  from  the  cafe  downstairs, 
Philip  formed  the  party  into  a  ways  and 
means  committee  to  provide  for  Molly's 
future.  After  telling  Jack  how  she  really 
had  arrived  and  showing  him  the  wet 


SO  THE  GIRL  WILL  LEAVE    137 

garments  and  the  wooden-soled  shoes  as 
proof  of  his  statements,  he  seemed  to  con- 
sider that  Jack  was  as  much  involved  in 
her  welfare  as  himself. 

"But  I  don't  see,"  protested  the  artist, 
"why  it  is  any  of  our  affair.'* 

"I  didn't  either  until  she  came  back 
the  second  time.  After  you've  let  her 
look  at  you  for  half  an  hour  with  those 
trustful,  baby  eyes  of  hers  you'll  feel  dif- 
ferent about  it.  We've  simply  got  to 
find  a  home  for  her." 

"You  talk  as  if  she  were  a  kitten  you 
had  found  out  on  the  sidewalk.  Why 
not  advertise,  *  Wanted,  a  home  for  a 
small,  strong,  German  girl,  answers  to  the 
name  of  "Molly,"  very  playful,  fond  of 
children,  color,  white  and  pink  except  for 
dark  smudge  of  coal  soot  on  nose.' ' 

The  girl,  unnoticed  by  the  two  men, 
gave  a  slight  start  and  raised  her  hand  an 
inch  from  the  arm  of  the  chair  in  which 


138  MOLLY  AND  I 

she  was  sitting,  then  with  an  effort  con- 
trolled the  movement  and  rested  her  hand 
hi  its  former  position. 

"But  she  hasn't  any  soot  mark  on  her 
nose."  Philip  examined  her  face  carefully 
and  with  evident  pleasure. 

"No,  but  we  could  put  one  on  and  it 
makes  her  description  sound  more  com- 
plete." He  produced  a  pipe  from  his 
coat  pocket. 

"Did  you  notice  the  scar  on  her  cheek, 
though?"  said  Philip,  continuing  his  scru- 
tiny. "If  anything  it  makes  her  look 
prettier,  I  think.  Do  you  know,  Jack, 
she  knows  I  am  talking  about  her  just 
the  way  a  dog  does  when  you  praise  it. 
Look  at  the  way  she  is  blushing.  She's 
a  picture!" 

"  If  you  don't  look  below  the  head,  yes. 
I  never  suspected  you  having  such  bad 
taste  in  pajamas.  That  striped  pattern 
looks  as  if  it  had  been  picked  out  by  a 


SO  THE   GIRL  WILL  LEAVE    139 

blind  Bulgarian  who  didn't  even  hear 
very  well." 

"Can  you  beat  her,  sitting  there  grinning 
like  a  cat  while  we're  guying  her?  It's 
lucky  she  doesn't  understand  English. 
Look  at  her,  Jack,  —  can't  you  almost  see 
a  ray  of  intelligence  in  that  face?  Am  I 
enthusiastic  because  she  is  pretty  or  does 
she  look  to  you  as  if  she  might  have  a 
little  sense?" 

"I  think  I  can  detect  a  sort  of  a  bright 
look  once  in  a  while.  We'll  put  that  in 
the  advertisement.  It  may  help  to  dispose 
of  her."  Jack  paused  in  the  act  of  strik- 
ing a  match.  "Ask  her  if  she  objects  to 
my  pipe,  will  you,  Phil?" 

Philip  hesitated  a  moment  and  then 
said  forcefully,  "Ich  weiss  nicht  was  soil 
es  bedeuten  dass  ich  so  traurig  bin." 

"Gee,  you  do  speak  German,  don't 
you!"  Jack  was  wide  eyed  with  admira- 
tion. 


140  MOLLY  AND   I 

"  Oh,  a  little,"  admitted  Philip  modestly, 
wondering  if  he  could  remember  the  words 
of  any  more  German  college  songs. 

Molly  looked  at  Philip  inquiringly, 
"Was  sagen  Sie?" 

Philip  soberly  repeated  once  more  the 
first  two  lines  of  "Die  Lorelei."  To  his 
astonishment  the  girl  smiled  and  replied 
gravely,  "Ein  kleiner  roter  Elefant 
kommt  sich  ohne  alle  andern  roten  Ele- 
fanten  gar  zu  einsam  vor." 

"What  did  she  say?" 

"I  don't  like  to  tell  you  for  fear  it  may 
hurt  your  feelings." 

"Go  ahead,  —  I  don't  mind." 

"She  said  she  doesn't  mind  a  good  pipe 
and  regular  tobacco  but  she  doesn't  care 
for  the  smell  of  burning  cabbage." 

"But  that's  what  you  always  say  about 
this  mixture,  yourself.  She  didn't  say  that." 

"Sure  she  did.  I  think  she  and  I  agree 
on  a  great  many  things.  I  wish  Marian 


SO  THE   GIRL  WILL  LEAVE     141 

were  here.  She'd  know  what  to  do  with 
her." 

"You  bet  she  would,"  Jack  grumbled, 
putting  his  pipe  back  in  his  pocket. 
"She'd  give  the  girl  a  meal  of  ground 
glass  and  a  nice  place  to  expire  in." 

"What  makes  you  say  that? "  demanded 
Philip. 

"Because  Marian  doesn't  like  to  have 
any  other  woman  around  the  man  she  is 
interested  in  and  just  now  she  regards 
you  as  her  property.  Savvy?  I've  known 
her  ten  years  and  I  never  saw  her  so  much 
in  love  before  in  all  that  time.  As  the 
proverb  says  *A  word  to  the  wise  never 
does  any  good.' ' 

The  waiter  from  the  cafe  arrived  at 
that  moment  with  a  trayful  of  covered 
dishes  containing  the  dinner  and  Philip 
assisted  him  in  getting  things  on  the  table. 
The  waiter  seemed  mildly  interested  in 
the  voluminously  clad  figure  in  the  dress- 


142  MOLLY  AND  I 

ing-gown  but  Philip  volunteered  no  ex- 
planation and  he  asked  no  questions. 

When  they  were  alone  again  Philip 
motioned  his  guests  to  the  table.  "Dinner 
is  served,  Mademoiselle  and  Monsieur,"  he 
announced  and  drew  back  a  chair  for  the 
girl.  "I  wonder  if  she  eats  with  her  fin- 
gers. Probably  she  does,  so  don't  be 
surprised.  No,  by  George,  I  see  a  light  of 
understanding  in  her  eye  when  she  sees 
a  knife.  It's  all  right,  she  is  going  to  eat 
with  her  knife.  That  suggests  dangerous 
possibilities,  however,  if  she  isn't  very 
skillful.  Will  you  serve  the  stuff,  Jack, 
while  I  fix  her  out  with  all  the  protection 
we  have?" 

Philip  unfolded  a  napkin  and  tied  it 
securely  around  the  girl's  neck,  bib  fashion. 

"Did  you  ever  see  anything  like  this 
girl's  hair?"  he  queried,  standing  in  back 
looking  down  upon  her  as  he  tied  the  nap- 
kin. "Nothing  but  fine,  soft  gold  and  it's 


SO  THE   GIRL  WILL  LEAVE    143 

clean  too.  You  won't  find  hair  like  that 
on  an  American  girl." 

"I  admit  she  is  pretty,"  Jack  concurred, 
"but  that's  no  excuse  for  neglecting  your 
dinner.  Sit  down  and  follow  the  example 
of  your  adopted  white  elephant." 

Molly  was  busily  eating  the  lump 
sugar  out  of  the  bowl  as  fast  as  she  could 
gobble  it. 

"Here  —  here  —  here,  Molly,  stop!" 
ejaculated  Philip  sternly,  catching  her 
arm  in  mid-air  as  she  reached  for  a  lump. 
"You  mustn't!"  He  shook  his  head  at 
her  and  slapped  her  wrists  gently.  "No, 
no,  nein  —  nein." 

She  looked  at  him  gravely  with  a  hurt 
expression.  "  Hatte  ich  das  nicht  gesollt?" 

"She  says  'Pass  the  bread,'"  Philip 
translated  recklessly. 

"All  right,  but  she  has  two  pieces  al- 
ready." 

Molly  improved  the  shining  moments 


144  MOLLY  AND  I 

between  conversation  by  cramming  food 
into  her  mouth  with  her  knife.  She  was 
not  so  skillful  at  this  handy  method  of 
eating  as  she  might  have  been  and  the 
result  was  highly  ornamental  to  that  por- 
tion of  her  face  immediately  adjacent  to 
her  lips. 

"I  hate  to  contemplate  the  result 
when  she  tackles  the  blueberry  pie,"  mur- 
mured the  host,  horribly  fascinated  by 
the  girl's  unsuccessful  attempts  to  mar 
her  beauty. 

"She's  a  lot  prettier  than  any  K.  M.  I 
ever  saw,"  Jack  commented,  the  artist  in 
him  rising  to  an  appreciation  of  her  fine 
points.  "Her  face  isn't  classic  or  even 
pure  in  outline  but  it  is  interesting.  I 
didn't  know  Germans  ever  had  pug  noses, 
though." 

"Halt,  man,"  commanded  Philip,  "how 
can  you  call  anything  about  her  'pug'? 
Her  nose  may  be  tip-tilted  just  a  wee  bit 


SO  THE   GIRL  WILL  LEAVE    145 

like  a  rosebud  turning  itself  up  for  a 
draught  of  morning  dew  but  — " 

"Say  no  more.  I  take  back  what  I 
said;  I  am  overwhelmed  with  similes.  A 
nose  by  any  other  name  would  smell  the 
same.  Tell  her  I  think  she  is  pretty." 

"I  seem  to  be  a  third  party  to  a  rather 
desperate  flirtation.  Well,  here  goes." 
He  gravely  fixed  Molly  with  his  eye  and 
soberly  stated,  "Ach,  du  lieber,  lieber, 
ach,  du  lieber,  lieber,  ein,  zwei,  drei,  vier, 
fiinf." 

Just  as  gravely  the  girl  replied,  "Sehen 
Sie  doch  den  schwarzen  Hund!  Er  jagt 
die  gelbe  Katze.  Katze  kann  ich  schon 
buchstabieren;  K-A-T." 

"  Ja,  ja,"  Philip  murmured,  nodding  his 
head  as  if  he  understood.  "She  says  she 
thanks  you  very  much  but  wants  to  warn 
you  that  she  is  married  already  and  has 
three  husbands  now  living  in  Germany. 
Look,"  he  ejaculated  in  mock  consterna- 


146  MOLLY  AND  I 

tion,  "see  what  she  is  doing  with  that  pie. 
Is  there  a  doctor  in  the  building  if  she 
should  cut  herself?" 

Molly  was  absorbed  in  the  difficult 
feat  of  getting  a  strip  of  pie  an  inch 
wide  and  about  three  inches  long  into 
her  mouth  without  dropping  it.  She  suc- 
ceeded at  last  and  all  drew  a  breath  of 
relief. 

"She  won't  cut  herself,"  assured  Jack. 
"My  grandfather  ate  with  his  knife  all  his 
life  and  he's  ninety-four  now." 

"You  can  get  statistics  to  prove  any- 
thing. But  don't  spring  a  joke  even  in 
English.  If  she  should  laugh  now  I  hate 
to  think  of  the  consequences." 

When  the  meal  was  over  and  Philip  had 
removed  the  last  trace  of  blueberry  pie 
from  Molly's  cheeks  the  waiter  took  away 
the  dishes. 

"As  it  is  still  raining,"  said  Philip,  glanc- 
ing out  of  the  window  at  the  storm  which 


SO  THE   GIRL  WILL  LEAVE     147 

was  raging  lustily,  "I  wish  we  could  get 
her  a  place  to  stay  for  the  night  somewhere 
in  the  building.  I  hate  to  think  of  send- 
ing her  out  into  the  wet." 

"Why  don't  you  ask  the  hall-boy? 
He'll  know  if  there  are  any  vacant  serv- 
ants' quarters  available." 

The  hall-boy  informed  Philip  over  the 
telephone  that  servants'  quarters  were  to 
be  had  but  there  would  be  no  room  ready 
for  occupancy  before  the  next  day.  He 
added,  however,  that  there  was  a  cheap 
boarding-house  in  the  next  block  where 
they  might  take  care  of  her. 

"That  will  have  to  do,"  decided  Philip. 
"Will  you  stay  here  with  her,  Jack,  and 
see  that  she  gets  back  into  her  own  clothes 
while  I  go  around  there  and  make  arrange- 
ments?" 

"Me  stay  here?"  questioned  Jack  in 
alarm.  "Nothing  doing.  I  wouldn't 
know  how  to  tell  her  anything.  You 


148  MOLLY  AND  I 

understand  what  she  says,  so  you  stay 
here  and  I'll  go  and  rent  the  room." 

That  arrangement  did  not  annoy  Philip 
as  much  as  he  pretended  it  did  because  it 
saved  him  the  necessity  of  going  out  in 
the  rain,  so  Jack  set  forth  in  search  of 
lodging  for  the  night. 

The  elements  were  apparently  waiting 
for  him  to  come  out  because  he  had 
no  sooner  left  than  pandemonium  let 
loose.  In  Philip's  apartment  the  win- 
dows banged  and  rattled  viciously  as  if 
some  malignant  witch  were  outside  trying 
to  get  in. 

Philip,  looking  out  over  the  city  to  see 
signs  of  a  clearing  sky,  turned  away  after 
a  particularly  blinding  flash  of  lightning 
to  console  the  little  German  girl. 

She  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  Appar- 
ently the  room  was  empty. 

"Where    are    you?"    shouted    Philip. 
"Molly!  Molly!" 


SO  THE   GIRL  WILL  LEAVE     149 

"Ja,"  came  a  voice  from  somewhere, 
"Hier,  Uncle  Sam." 

He  looked  all  around  before  his  eyes 
fell  on  a  face  peering  out  from  under  the 
table. 

"Come  out  of  there,  you.  What's  the 
matter?  " 

He  took  her  hand  and  half  pulled  her 
out  from  her  shelter.  At  another  crash  of 
thunder  she  started,  however,  and  scram- 
bled back. 

"Are  you  afraid  of  thunder?"  He 
pointed  outside. 

She  nodded  vigorously. 

"It  can't  hurt  you,  Molly."  He  helped 
her  out  and  stood  her  on  her  feet.  "I 
know  just  how  you  feel,  though,  because 
I  used  to  be  afraid  of  thunder,  too,  when  I 
was  a  kid.  Whenever  it  stormed  I  would 
run  to  my  mother  and  she'd  take  me  in  her 
arms  and  rock  me  and  tell  me  fairy  stories 
until  I'd  forget  all  about  it." 


150  MOLLY  AND  I 

Molly  went  to  the  sideboard  from  which 
she  took  eight  glasses.  These  she  placed 
on  the  floor,  much  to  the  mystification  of 
Philip. 

"  She's  a  Japanese  juggler, "he murmured 
to  himself,  "  and  this  is  one  of  her  tricks." 

Molly  took  two  of  the  dining-room  chairs 
and  placed  their  legs  in  the  glasses.  Then 
she  sat  on  one  of  them  and  curled  her  feet 
up  under  her,  a  pose  suggestive  of  the  dis- 
comfort of  a  Chinese  god. 

"I  remember,"  commented  the  man, 
"my  grandmother  used  to  do  that  stunt. 
The  glass  is  supposed  to  be  a  non-conduc- 
tor so  if  you  keep  your  feet  off  the  floor 
you  are  safe  from  lightning." 

Molly  motioned  toward  the  other  chair. 

"Uncle  Sam,  bitte,  sitzen  Sie  sich!" 

"All  right."  He  sat  beside  her.  "You 
want  to  save  me  from  the  general  de- 
struction do  you?  I  don't  know  whether 
I  can  do  that  trick  with  my  feet  though." 


SO  THE   GIRL  WILL  LEAVE    151 

"Choo,  —  choo,  --  choo,  Uncle  Sam,  I 
love  you,"  softly  whispered  Molly,  getting 
rid  of  all  her  English  at  once.  "Singen 
sie  mir  doch  was  vor!" 

"What  did  you  say?" 

"Singen  Sie!" 

"Sing?" 

"Ja." 

"I  can't." 

"Bitte,  Uncle  Sam,  I  love  you!" 

"She  doesn't  know  what  she  is  saying," 
Philip  commented  aloud.  "I  guess  she 
means  it  as  much  as  most  women  do,  at 
that." 

Molly  put  her  hand  confidingly  in  his. 
"Bitte!" 

"Your  hand  is  like  a  baby's  —  and  I 
turned  you  out  into  the  street.  Thank 
God,  you  came  back." 

"Danke  schon."  She  looked  up  at 
him  expectantly. 

"I  can't  sing.    Honest  to  goodness,  my 


152  MOLLY  AND  I 

education  was  neglected  in  that  branch, 
but  I'll  tell  you  a  story  and  after  that  you 
can  dress  and  I'll  take  you  to  a  boarding- 
house.  It  won't  have  to  be  a  very  good 
story  because  you  won't  understand  it 
anyway.  Here  follows  The  Strange  Tale 
of  the  Baldheaded  Mermaid." 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE   STRANGE   TALE    OF    THE   BALDHEADED 
MERMAID 


upon  a  time  there  was  a  mer- 
maid by  the  name  of  Estelle  who  had 
been  entirely  bald  from  birth.  Never 
upon  the  shiny  roof  of  her  alleged  intellect 
had  there  sprouted  a  single  follicle. 
Tresses  shunned  the  slippery  surface  of 
her  head  as  too  insecure  a  place  to  roost. 

Aside  from  this  defect  Estelle's  beauty 
was  as  great  as  that  of  one  of  the  heroines 
Elinor  Glyn  describes  so  well  after  eating  a 
peck  of  catnip.  By  that  you  are  supposed  to 
infer  that  she  had  a  figure  that  would  have 
made  her  unpopular  with  women  anywhere 
in  the  world.  Her  face,  too,  was  one  that 
would  have  obtained  her  a  position  on 


154  MOLLY  AND  I 

one  of  Ziegfeld's  choruses  any  day.  It's 
an  open  question,  of  course,  whether  Zieg- 
feld  ever  noticed  that  ladies  have  faces. 

When  Estelle  was  a  mere  tadpole,  so  to 
speak,  and  after  that,  when  she  was  a 
frisky  tomboy,  it  didn't  make  much  dif- 
ference whether  she  had  hair  or  not.  In 
some  ways  it  was  an  advantage.  She  could 
get  dressed  quicker  than  her  sisters,  who 
always  had  to  spend  hours  on  their  coif- 
fures before  they  could  do  anything  amus- 
ing. As  far  as  Estelle  was  concerned  get- 
ting up  consisted  of  opening  both  eyes  and 
putting  on  a  fresh  pleasant  smile.  Then 
she  was  ready  for  the  day.  Her  father, 
Neptune,  who  was  incidentally  the  parent 
of  several  hundred  thousand  other  mer- 
maids, was  especially  nice  to  her.  One 
reason  for  that  was  because  she  was  the 
only  one  of  his  daughters  he  could  be 
reasonably  sure  of  the  name  of.  The  rest 
looked  more  or  less  alike  but  there  is  no 


THE  BALDHEADED  MERMAID  155 

mistaking  a  baldheaded  mermaid,  as 
you  must  admit  if  you've  ever  seen  one. 

Neptune  allowed  her  to  have  a  catfish 
and  a  dogfish  for  pets.  The  catfish  was 
named  Tom,  although  it  wasn't  really 
that  kind  of  a  cat.  at  all,  and  the  dogfish 
would  come  when  you  whistled,  which  is 
hard  to  do  under  water,  as  you  know. 
Tom  and  the  dogfish  quarrelled  a  great 
deal  and  it  was  a  very  tame  evening  which 
didn't  end  by  Neptune's  kicking  them 
both  out  of  doors.  Tom  also  got  into  the 
annoying  habit  of  having  kittens  every 
month  or  so.  This  used  to  break  Estelle's 
heart  because  her  father  wouldn't  let  her 
keep  them  but  insisted  on  tying  stones 
around  their  necks  and  drowning  them. 
After  a  batch  of  Tommy's  offspring  had 
thus  perished,  Estelle  always  cried  herself 
to  sleep  but  nobody  ever  knew  it  as  the 
water  was  salty,  anyway. 

But  when  she  grew  up  into  young  mer- 


156  MOLLY  AND  I 

maidenhood  her  troubles  began  in  earnest. 
The  business  of  mermaids  in  general  is  to 
sit  on  rocks  and  sing  and  comb  their  hair 
until  some  sailor  leaves  his  ship  and  comes 
to  them.  Now  Estelle  had  a  voice  like 
the  music  of  wind  bells  in  a  gentle  breeze 
and  she  could  sit  on  a  rock  as  well  as  any- 
body. But  when  it  came  to  combing  the 
hair  Estelle  simply  was  not  there.  Not 
but  what  she  had  plenty  of  combs.  One 
of  her  aunts  absentmindedly  gave  her  a 
beautiful  tortoise-shell  one,  every  Christ- 
mas. But  there  was  nothing  to  comb. 
Sailors  would  hear  her  singing  on  a  rock 
and  leave  their  ships  to  come  to  her  and 
then,  when  they'd  get  a  glimpse  of  that 
vacant  sky -piece  glistening  in  the  moon- 
light, they'd  laugh  and  swim  right  back 
to  their  ships. 

As  a  siren  Estelle  left  too  much  to  the 
imagination. 

The  real  tragedy  of  Estelle's  baldness 


THE  BALDHEADED  MERMAID  157 

lay  in  the  fact  that  she  fell  desperately  in 
love  with  a  young  Triton.  He  was  quite 
the  most  popular  Triton  in  her  part  of  the 
ocean  and  all  the  mermaids  adored  him 
and  set  their  caps  for  him.  It  will  give 
you  an  idea  of  how  handsome  he  was  when 
I  tell  you  his  name  was  Herbert  and  he 
looked  the  part.  To  Estelle  he  paid  no 
attention  whatever  except  to  swear  occa- 
sionally when  he  found  her  lying  across 
his  doorstep  in  the  morning  when  he  got  up. 
No  matter  how  ingratiatingly  she  smiled 
at  him  and  wagged  her  tail  he  brushed  by 
her  as  if  she  had  been  a  mere  dogfish. 

In  common  with  everyone  else  in  the 
world  who  is  bald,  Estelle  was  the  recip- 
ient of  a  great  deal  of  advice.  One  friend 
advised  electric  treatments  and  for  weeks 
Estelle  rubbed  her  head  on  the  Atlantic 
cable.  Another  said  she  had  heard  that 
going  bareheaded  in  the  sun  would  grow 
hair  and  after  that  every  bright  day  found 


158  MOLLY  AND  I 

Estelle  roosting  on  the  beach  until  her 
pretty  pink  and  white  skin  turned  a  bright 
angry  red  and  then  a  rich  mahogany  shade. 
But  the  down  failed  to  materialize  and 
one  day  when  she  woke  up  from  an  after- 
noon nap  and  found  an  ostrich  vainly 
trying  to  hatch  something  out  of  her 
egg-shaped  cranium,  she  gave  it  up  and 
spent  a  week  in  the  cool,  coral  caves  at 
the  bottom  of  the  ocean,  thoughtfully 
peeling  herself. 

Then  came  Estelle's  deliverance.  One 
day  she  was  swimming  along  beside  a 
great  ocean  liner,  attempting  to  entice  the 
captain,  who  stood  on  the  bridge,  to  jump 
overboard.  The  cViptain  did  not  notice 
her.  Neither  did  any  of  the  other  men  on 
board.  The  reason  was  because  there  was 
an  atrociously  beautiful  woman  on  the 
ship.  Her  skin  Was  almost  as  beautiful  as 
Estelle's  and  she  wore  the  stunningest 
clothes  she  could  get  in  Paris.  But  her 


THE  BALDHEADED  MERMAID  159 

chiefest  charm  lay  in  her  hair.  It  was 
bright,  shiny  gold,  wonderfully  done  up  in 
curls  and  ringlets  and  braids  and  pom- 
padours. Altogether  it  struck  Estelle,  who 
was  something  of  a  connoisseur  in  hair,  as 
the  most  desirable  head-covering  she  had 
ever  set  eyes  upon.  But  more  marvelous 
even  than  the  hair  was  a  hat  which  nestled 
lovingly  upon  her  head.  It  was  a  gorgeous 
thing  of  black  velvet  and  plumes,  which 
made  the  golden  hair  seem  more  golden 
and  the  milky  white  skin  more  dazzling. 
Hair  and  hat  were  an  irresistible  combina- 
tion. From  morning  till  night  this  ra- 
diant creature  was  the  center  of  an  admir- 
ing masculine  crowd.  When  she  spoke, 
they  held  their  breath,  when  she  smiled, 
they  roared  in  appreciative  laughter  and, 
if  she  expressed  the  slightest  wish,  they 
fought  each  other  for  the  privilege  of 
gratifying  it. 

Estelle  followed  the  ship  all  day,  tor- 


160  MOLLY  AND  I 

luring  herself  with  envy  of  this  woman 
who  pleased  without  effort. 

Then  suddenly  toward  nightfall  a  squall 
came  up.  The  beautiful  woman  on  the 
ship  was  too  busy  enchanting  everybody 
in  sight  to  notice  it. 

That  was  how  it  happened  that  she  was 
standing  out  on  the  open  deck  when  the 
wind  swooped. 

It  was  all  over  in  a  second.  The  first 
gust  of  the  gale  got  under  the  beautiful 
black  hat  and  hurled  it  far  out  across  the 
waves.  But  horror  of  horrors,  —  the 
hat  was  securely  fastened  to  the  lady's 
hair,  —  more  securely  in  fact  than  the  hair 
was  attached  to  the  lady  herself.  In  a 
second  the  lady's  circle  of  admirers  were 
convulsed  with  jeering  laughter.  Estelle 
recognized  their  laugh  as  the  same  she  had 
heard  so  often  as  the  sailors  swam  back 
to  their  ships  after  she  had  failed  to  charm 
them.  It  was  the  same  laugh  and  for  the 


same  reason.  The  beautiful  lady  was  as 
bald  as  Estelle  herself. 

All  this  Estelle  noticed  in  the  twink- 
ling of  an  eye,  while  the  lady's  head-cover- 
ing was  flying  through  the  air,  and  before 
it  finally  dropped  into  her  own  out- 
stretched arms.  Her  first  thought  was  to 
swim  after  the  ship  and  give  back  the  hair 
to  the  lady  but  her  generous  impulse  lasted 
only  a  second.  Without  the  hair  the 
lady  looked  like  Estelle;  with  it  Estelle 
might  look  as  the  lady  had.  Estelle 
turned  and  dived  straight  for  the  bottom 
of  the  ocean. 

You  will  have  to  imagine  how  she 
looked  when  she  came  home  that  night, 
resplendent  with  elaborately  dressed 
golden  hair  and  the  large,  velvet  hat 
with  ostrich  plumes.  All  the  Tritons 
and  mermen  and  even  the  masculine 
fish  clustered  about  her  —  while  other 
mermaids  hung  around  in  an  outer  circle, 


162  MOLLY  AND  I 

murmuring  "Peroxide"  as  a  sort  of  a 
cuss-word. 

Handsome  Herbert,  the  scrumptious 
Triton,  fell  for  her  at  once  and  on  the 
second  day  after  Estelle  blossomed  out  as 
a  deep-sea  show  girl  he  proposed  to  her. 
Under  the  golden  tresses,  however,  Estelle 
had  developed  a  slight  swelling  that 
blinded  her  to  his  charms  and  she  did  not 
flop  into  his  arms  as  she  had  often  pic- 
tured herself  doing.  On  the  contrary  she 
refused  to  give  him  a  definite  answer  and 
went  up  and  sat  on  a  rock  to  sing  to  the 
seamen. 

This  time  she  was  successful.  Every 
sailor  who  caught  a  glimpse  of  that  golden 
head  sprang  overboard  and  swam  to  her 
side.  Every  evening  it  was  the  same.  It 
got  so  that  ships  had  to  avoid  her  part  of 
the  ocean  if  they  wanted  to  get  into  port. 
Estelle  was  so  popular  and  so  busy  siren- 
ing  that  she  frequently  had  to  keep  at  it 


THE  BALDHEADED  MERMAID  163 

until  after  eight  bells  of  the  dog  watch 
which  is  dreadful  late  to  have  to  stay 
awake. 

But  always  when  she  came  in,  there  was 
faithful  Herbert  with  a  reproachful  look 
in  his  eyes,  waiting  to  ask  her  if  she  had 
made  up  her  mind  yet.  And  always  she 
yawned  and  told  him  to  wait  until  to- 
morrow. 

That  sort  of  thing  went  on  for  fifty 
years.  Estelle  was  still  as  beautiful  as 
ever  because  mermaids  never  grow  old, 
but  the  same  cannot  be  said  of  the  black 
velvet  hat.  Estelle  did  not  know  it  but 
that  kind  of  millinery  went  hopelessly  out 
of  style.  It  got  so  far  behind  times  that 
even  the  sailors  noticed  it  and  laughed  a 
little  at  her  when  she  was  sirening.  Fin- 
ally it  got  so  they  laughed  almost  as 
much  as  they  used  to  when  she  was  bald 
and  a  terrible  fear  clutched  at  the  heart 
of  Estelle.  With  tears  in  her  eyes  she 


164  MOLLY  AND  I 

caught  one  of  the  seamen  as  he  was 
swimming  back  to  his  ship  and  demanded 
an  explanation  of  his  laughter. 

"It's  the  lid,  little  one,"  he  explained, 
floating  on  his  back  for  a  moment  to  rest. 
"They  ain't  been  wearing  that  kind  of  a 
bonnet  since  the  year  Fremont  ran  against 
Buchanan." 

Deeply  humbled,  Estelle  went  home. 
Herbert  was  waiting  for  her  but  she 
thought  she  detected  the  suspicion  of  a 
smile  on  his  handsome  mouth  and  she 
whisked  past  him  angrily,  giving  him  a 
slap  with  her  tail  as  she  went  by. 

For  days  and  days  she  sulked  in  her 
coral  cave  and  would  speak  to  no  one. 
Her  sisters,  talking  among  themselves, 
commented  on  the  fact  that  Herbert,  the 
Triton,  no  longer  stood  outside  the  door, 
having  deserted  his  post  for  the  first  time 
in  fifty  years,  and  they  cast  commiserat- 
ing glances  at  Estelle,  who  seemed  doomed 


THE  BALDHEADED  MERMAID  165 

to  be  an  old  mermaid.  Bitterly  she  up- 
braided herself  for  not  marrying  Herbert 
when  she  had  the  chance.  Day  suc- 
ceeded day  and  Estelle  grew  pale  and 
thin,  pining  for  the  love  she  might  have 
had. 

Then  one  sunny  morning  Neptune  came 
to  her  and  said  that  Herbert  was  back  and 
wanted  to  see  her.  With  a  thrill  Estelle 
said  she  would  be  down  in  a  minute  and 
began  taking  off  the  hat  which  had  not 
left  her  head  in  fifty  years.  Her  gol- 
den curls  she  arranged  as  becomingly 
as  she  knew  how  and  putting  on  a  fresh 
pleasant  smile  which  she  fixed  as  firmly 
as  possible  she  was  all  ready  to  meet  her 
fate. 

Sure  enough,  Herbert  was  there,  carry- 
ing a  great,  round,  pasteboard  box,  tied 
with  ribbons,  which  he  held  out  to  her 
silently.  With  trembling  fingers  she 
opened  it  and  there  was  a  tiny,  exquisite 


166  MOLLY  AND  I 

hat  of  the  latest  fashion,  with  wonderful 
aigrettes  and  a  golden  buckle  on  it. 

With  a  cry  of  delight  Estelle  turned  to 
Herbert.  He,  wisest  of  all  the  Tritons, 
stood  with  open  arms. 


CHAPTER  XII 

LATER  BULLETIN:  THE  MAN  HAS  TO  LEAVE 


what  do  you  think  he  said?" 
questioned  Philip  of  the  little  peas- 
ant girl. 

She  answered,  sleepily,  "Uncle  Sam,  I 
love  you,"  then  yawned  and  shut  her  eyes, 
as  she  leaned  against  his  shoulder. 

"That  wasn't  exactly  what  she  said 
but  it  was  nearly  that." 

"Uncle  Sam,  I  —  "  She  reached  out 
and  slipped  one  of  her  tiny  hands  in  his. 
Then  with  a  contented  sigh  she  broke  off 
in  the  midst  of  her  single  English  phrase 
and  fell  asleep. 

"Now  it's  time  to  dress  and  go  to  the 
place  where  you  are  going  to  sleep," 
suggested  the  man,  loudly. 


168  MOLLY  AND  I 

The  girl  turned  her  head  on  his  shoulder, 
reaching  for  a  softer  hollow,  apparently 
found  it  and  rested  more  heavily  against 
him. 

"I  said,"  repeated  the  man,  "that  it's 
time  to  — " 

He  looked  around  helplessly.  What  was 
the  correct  thing  to  do  when  a  tiny  little 
lady  in  pajamas  fell  asleep  on  one's 
shoulder? 

His  indecision  lasted  but  a  moment.  He 
rose,  picked  up  the  warm,  slender  body  in 
his  arms,  letting  the  voluminous  bath  robe 
fall  to  the  floor,  and  transported  her,  with 
the  long  pajamas  legs  and  arms  dangling 
over  her  feet  and  hands,  to  the  adjoining 
room  and  placed  her  on  his  bed.  Almost 
instantly  she  assumed  the  customary  at- 
titude of  an  anchovy  when  he  sees  a  piece 
of  toast.  Yes,  she  was  sound  asleep.  It 
would  be  a  shame  to  awaken  her,  but,  good 
Lord ! — did  she  always  smile  when  she  slept 


LATER  BULLETIN  169 

and  was  it  natural  for  a  girl's  cheeks  to  be 
so  pink  and  her  lips  so  red?  Maybe  she 
was  feverish.  He  put  his  hand  on  her 
cheek  to  find  out  but  drew  it  away  quickly 
when  she  nestled  her  face  in  it  as  if  she 
expected  it  to  stay  there  as  a  pillow.  No, 
her  cheek  was  not  hot. 

He  covered  her  up  warmly,  opened  the 
windows  wide,  got  his  hat  and  coat, 
turned  out  the  light  and  tip-toed  quietly 
to  the  door. 

Downstairs,  in  the  hallway  of  the  apart- 
ment building  he  waited  until  his  artist 
friend  returned. 

"Where's  the  kid?"  Jack  demanded. 
"I've  found  a  place  for  her.  It  ain't 
much  but  it  will  do  for  to-night.  It's 
on—" 

"Never  mind  telling  me  where  it  is. 
Take  me  there.  I'm  going  to  sleep  in  it 
myself." 

Before  morning  he  regretted  his  generos- 


170  MOLLY  AND  I 

ity  at  least  once  an  hour.  Rather  a 
fastidious  sleeper  anyway,  the  squeaky 
springs  and  hard,  lifeless  mattress  of  his 
hastily  requisitioned  quarters  compared 
ill  with  the  bachelor  comfort  of  his  apart- 
ment and  kept  him  from  more  than  doz- 
ing all  night  long. 

Well,  it  was  only  one  night.  When  he 
got  up  in  the  morning  his  chief  idea  was 
to  get  rid  of  her  as  quickly  as  possible. 
Fortunately  it  was  a  fine,  sunshiny  day. 
It  would  not  be  so  hard  to  turn  her  adrift 
in  pleasant  weather.  It  should  be  done 
right  after  breakfast. 

He  decided  not  to  make  the  move  be- 
fore breakfast  because  it  would  not  be 
fair  to  expect  a  lady  to  face  the  world  un- 
fed. Breakfast,  then,  was  his  first  concern 
and  as  he  walked  over  to  his  own  apart- 
ment he  tried  to  think  of  some  restaurant 
he  might  take  her  to  where  her  conspicu- 
ously foreign  costume  would  not  cause 


LATER  BULLETIN  171 

comment.  A  diligent  search  of  his  memory 
failed  to  turn  up  a  recollection  of  any  such 
a  place.  Possibly  the  hall-boy  would  know. 

He  did.  Philip  sent  him  up  to  his  apart- 
ment to  tell  Molly  in  German  to  be  ready 
for  breakfast  in  twenty  minutes  and  that 
he,  Mr.  Philip  Smith,  would  come  for  her 
after  that  interval. 

Philip  spent  the  time  in  reading  the 
morning  paper  and  then  with  mixed  feel- 
ings took  the  elevator  up  to  his  own  floor. 
What  would  she  look  like  by  daylight? 
Of  course  his  literary  imagination  had  been 
playing  him  tricks  and  a  before-breakfast 
scrutiny  would  reveal  her  as  of  a  coarse, 
common  type,  with  none  of  the  Dresden 
china  shepherdess  qualities  with  which 
his  fancy  had  been  investing  her.  Almost 
with  regret  he  turned  the  key  in  his  own 
door.  It  was  too  bad  to  spoil  the  recollec- 
tion he  had  of  her  with  an  uninteresting 
reality. 


172  MOLLY  AND  I 

He  opened  the  door.  The  air  was 
pleasantly  chill  as  if  it  had  just  been  let 
in  from  outside.  There  was  no  one  in  the 
room,  but  a  delicious  aroma  flavored  the 
atmosphere  with  the  unmistakable  frag- 
rance of  coffee.  The  table  was  covered 
with  a  hitherto  unused  cloth  that  went 
with  the  apartment  and  the  silverware 
was  more  or  less  correctly  distributed  for 
the  service  of  one  person.  In  amazement 
he  noted  that  on  the  table  were  sugar  and 
cream.  His  recollection  of  the  stores  in 
his  commissariat  included  only  a  lot  of 
cigars  and  some  whiskey. 

"Molly,"  he  called  sharply. 

"  Ja,  Uncle  Sam,"  came  pleasantly  from 
the  kitchenette,  followed  shortly  by  Molly 
herself,  clattering  noisily  across  the  floor  in 
her  preposterous  wooden-soled  shoes. 

Clad  once  more  in  her  own  costume  and 
smiling  with  ingratiating  cheerfulness,  she 
aroused  in  him  the  pleasant  sensation  of 


LATER  BULLETIN  173 

a  dream  come  true.  She  wasn't  so  bad 
after  all,  even  in  daylight.  Her  hair  was 
pretty  and  she  looked  clean. 

"Guten  Morgen."  She  dropped  him  a 
sort  of  a  curtesy. 

"Good  morning,  good  morning,"  an- 
swered Philip  absently,  still  absorbed 
in  contemplation  of  her.  "Now,  where 
did  you  get  the  coffee  and  cream  and 
sugar?" 

She  looked  at  him  inquiringly  and  shook 
her  head. 

"Here."  He  picked  up  the  cream 
pitcher,  held  it  out,  shook  his  head  and 
shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Ach  — "  She  took  his  hand  and  led 
him  to  the  kitchenette.  "Komm  hier." 

She  opened  the  door  of  the  dumb  waiter, 
made  the  motion  of  pulling  something  up 
and  then  of  reaching  out  and  taking  things 
from  the  tiny  service  elevator.  Then  she 
laughed. 


174  MOLLY  AND  I 

"By  George!  You  pinched  our  neigh- 
bors' supplies  off  from  the  dumb  waiter, 
did  you?  I  suppose  you  thought  that  in 
this  country  things  were  free." 

She  closed  the  dumb  waiter  and  made 
vigorous  signs  that  he  should  sit  down  and 
have  breakfast. 

He  took  his  seat  with  mingled  sensa- 
tions of  amusement  and  satisfaction.  It 
was  the  first  time  he  had  taken  a  meal  in 
a  place  he  could  call  his  own  home  since 
he  had  lived  with  his  parents. 

First  Molly  brought  in  a  grape  fruit 
properly  prepared.  She  had  evidently 
seen  service  in  some  high-class  family 
abroad.  Probably  the  tenants  of  the 
apartments  above  would  have  him  arrested 
before  lunch  but  he  might  as  well  eat 
what  there  was  now. 

He  discovered  on  finishing  his  fruit 
that  Molly  had  unearthed  a  small  tap 
bell  from  somewhere  and  when  he  touched 


LATER  BULLETIN  175 

it  she  appeared  instantly  and  removed  the 
dishes. 

The  remainder  of  his  breakfast,  consist- 
ing of  broiled  lamb  chops,  fried  potatoes, 
hot  muffins  and  coffee,  was  a  credit  to 
Molly's  skill  and  his  neighbor's  shopping 
ability.  Never  had  Philip  enjoyed  a  meal 
more  or  been  so  attentively  and  unob- 
trusively served. 

After  breakfast  he  noticed  with  pleas- 
ure that  his  desk  had  been  dusted, 
the  waste  basket  emptied  and  his 
books  straightened  up.  There  was  some- 
thing, after  all,  in  having  a  woman  about 
the  place,  especially  an  efficient  and  will- 
ing one.  Just  as  a  personal  luxury  he 
had  half  a  mind  to  keep  her.  It  would 
be  comfortable  to  have  everything  done 
for  him  and  to  have  his  meals  right  at 
home. 

But  pshaw,  it  was  out  of  the  question. 
He  couldn't  afford  it  and  she  would  un- 


176  MOLLY  AND  I 

doubtedly  be  in  the  way  while  he  was 
working. 

From  the  kitchenette  came  her  voice  as 
she  washed  the  dishes.  She  sang  very 
softly,  evidently  merely  an  accompani- 
ment to  happy  thoughts,  but  Philip  dis- 
covered suddenly  that  he  had  never 
heard  any  pleasanter  music  in  the  world 
than  just  a  woman  singing  about  her 
work.  He  made  a  memorandum  of  the 
fact  in  a  note-book,  to  use  later  in  one  of 
his  stories. 

Having  her  turn  out  to  be  so  pleasant 
and  cheerful  really  made  it  harder  to  send 
her  away  but  it  must  be  done.  When  the 
dishes  were  washed  Molly  came  into  the 
living-room.  Now  was  the  time.  He  must 
do  it  quickly  and  get  it  over  so  he  could  go 
back  to  work. 

What  was  she  doing?  Oh!  She  placed 
the  cloth  head-dress  on  her  hair  and  then 
the  shawl  across  her  shoulders.  She  was 


LATER  BULLETIN  177 

going  without  being  sent.  Probably  she 
had  realized  that  he  could  not  keep  a  maid 
and  was  leaving  of  her  own  accord  to  get 
a  better  job.  That  made  it  easy.  He 
drew  a  sigh  of  relief  not  unmixed  with 
regret  when  he  thought  of  that  heavenly 
breakfast. 

She  came  to  his  desk  and  held  out  her 
hand. 

Rather  unusual  sort  of  a  farewell  from 
a  servant,  thought  Philip,  but  possibly 
customary  in  Germany.  He  shook  hands 
with  her. 

"Now,  Molly,"  he  lectured  wisely,  "be 
very  careful  in  the  future  about  getting 
wet  and  not  changing  your  clothes.  You 
seem  to  be  very  thoughtless  about  such 
matters.  I  don't  think  of  any  other  ad- 
vice I  can  give  you  that  you  would  under- 
stand or  remember.  Good-bye."  He 
paused.  "Good-bye!"  he  repeated  with 
emphasis. 


178  MOLLY  AND  I 

"  Good-bye,"  she  enunciated  uncertainly 
after  him. 

He  turned  back  to  his  work. 

"Uncle  Sam." 

He  looked  up  once  more.  She  stood 
with  her  hand  out  as  before. 

"Geld." 

"Money?  Why,  you  mercenary  little 
wretch.  I  suppose  you  think  you  are  en- 
titled to  pay  for  getting  my  breakfast." 

"Ohne  Geld  kann  ich  nicht  die  Speise 
einkaufen." 

"  We  won't  argue  about  it.  If  you  think 
there  is  anything  coming  to  you  I  am 
willing  to  settle."  He  drew  out  his  slen- 
der roll  of  bills  and  gave  her  one  of  the 
two-dollar  denomination.  "All  right?"  he 
inquired. 

"All  right,"  she  repeated  gravely  and 
trotted  out  of  the  room.  Scorning  the 
elevator  she  walked  downstairs,  as  he  could 
tell  from  the  "clump,  clump"  of  the 


LATER  BULLETIN  179 

wooden  shoes,  that  floated  back  to  him 
long  after  she  had  gone. 

Philip  laughed  as  he  resumed  the  liter- 
ary attitude  of  being  about  to  work  when 
an  idea  comes.  Two-thirds  of  authorship 
consists  of  lining  up  in  front  of  a  desk 
persistently.  If  you  stay  there  long 
enough  you  will  be  forced  to  write  some- 
thing. 

That  morning  he  accomplished  a  good 
deal  before  Jack  Herrick  arrived,  walking 
in  without  knocking,  as  was  his  custom. 
Philip  always  left  the  catch  off  the  door 
during  the  day. 

"Well,"  said  Jack,  depositing  his  bulk 
gingerly  on  one  of  the  straight-backed 
chairs,  "did  you  get  rid  of  the  Dutch  K.  M. 
all  right?" 

"Yes,  she  went  of  her  own  accord. 
You  ought  to  see  the  breakfast  she  got 
for  me,  though,  before  she  left.  If  the 
French  chef,  down  in  that  place  where  you 


180  MOLLY  AND  I 

think  you  eat,  could  have  tasted  it  he 
would  have  expired  with  envy.  It  would 
spare  the  world  considerable  indigestion 
if  he  did." 

"What  I  came  to  tell  you  this  morning 
is  that  before  she  left  Marian  asked  us 
both  to  come  to  Boston  Friday  night  for 
Saturday  and  Sunday.  I  guess  she  hates 
to  have  you  out  of  her  sight  any  longer 
than  that.  I  told  her  I  thought  we  would 
come  but  I  forgot  to  mention  it  to  you 
last  night." 

"Why,  let's  see  — "  began  Philip,  won- 
dering why  he  did  not  leap  at  the 
invitation. 

"It's  nothing  to  me,  you  know,"  Jack 
filled  in  the  pause.  "I'm  not  press  agent 
for  this  show.  We'd  probably  have  a 
rotten  time,  anyway.  I  always  do  when  I 
visit  anybody.  But  I  told  her  I'd  speak 
to  you  and  there  you  are." 

"I'll  write  to  Marian  about  it,"  decided 


LATER  BULLETIN  181 

Philip  with  a  twinge  of  conscience,  as  he 
thought  of  the  letter  he  had  started  to 
compose  to  her  the  night  before. 

"At  any  rate,  I'll  take  you  to  lunch 
now,"  Jack  invited,  "if  you'll  promise  not 
to  speak  once  of  the  breakfast  you  had 
this  morning  and  compare  all  other  food 
in  the  world  unfavorably  with  it." 

"That's  a  fair  bargain." 

Philip  was  in  the  act  of  closing  his  desk 
for  the  morning  when  the  two  men  were 
surprised  to  see  the  door  open  gently  and 
a  small  figure  entirely  surrounded  by 
bundles  enter  the  room  and  pass  a  trifle 
noisily  to  the  kitchenette. 

Jack  stood  open-mouthed. 

"I  thought  you  fired  her." 

"I  thought  I  had,"  Philip  assured  him. 

Molly  returned  after  having  deposited 
her  bundles  in  the  kitchenette  and  gravely 
offered  Philip  a  dollar  bill  and  twenty-four 
cents  in  change  which  he  accepted  in 


182  MOLLY  AND  I 

dazed  wonder.  As  if  it  were  a  matter  of 
course  she  spread  the  cloth  on  the  table 
once  more  and  drew  up  two  chairs. 

"I  regret,"  stated  Philip  politely,  watch- 
ing this  manoeuvre,  "that  I  must  decline 
your  invitation  to  lunch,  Jack,  but  as  a 
sort  of  earnest  of  my  good  will  I  invite 
you  to  share  my  humble  fare  instead.  I 
don't  know  what  it  is  going  to  be  but  it  is 
more  than  you  deserve." 

"You  aren't  going  to  keep  her?" 

"I  don't  seem  to  have  any  choice  in  the 
matter.  At  any  rate  I'm  not  going  to  fire 
her  again  before  lunch." 

"By  George,  that  does  smell  like  actual 
coffee,"  Jack  ejaculated,  sniffing  the  air. 
"I  guess  I'll  stay  and  eat  with  you." 

In  the  intervals  between  the  cheerful 
rattle  of  pots  and  pans  in  the  kitchen 
Molly  appeared  to  set  the  table.  She  was 
wearing  one  of  her  purchases,  a  diminutive 
white  apron  trimmed  with  a  quality  of 


LATER  BULLETIN  183 

lace  that  never  came  out  of  the  five  and 
ten  cent  stores.  Another  purchase  made 
its  appearance  on  the  table  in  a  tiny  glass 
vase,  two  cream-colored  roses,  slightly 
pink  at  the  curly  edges  of  the  petals.  They 
made  the  place  a  home  instead  of  simply  a 
place  to  live. 

The  eye  of  the  artist  lighted  up  with 
pleasure.  "I'll  tell  you,  Phil,"  he  pro- 
posed, "if  you  can't  afford  to  keep  this 
girl,  I'll  hire  her.  Any  servant  who  would 
think  of  getting  roses  for  the  table  can 
darn  my  socks  whether  they  need  it  or 
not." 

"You  know,  don't  you,"  began  Philip, 
resentfully,  "that  maid-servants  aren't 
supposed  to  darn  socks?" 

"No,  I  don't,  but  I'm  willing  to  pay  for 
whatever  she  can  do.  Tell  her  so  for  me, 
will  you?" 

"Not  until  after  lunch.  I  don't  want 
to  spoil  the  girl's  appetite." 


184  MOLLY  AND  I 

"You  want    to  get    rid  of  her   don't 

you?" 

"Ye-es,"  assented  Philip  doubtfully, 
wishing  that  she  had  not  come  back  at  all 
to  torment  his  mind  and  digestion. 

"Well,  then,  send  her  to  me.  I'll  see 
that  she  has  good  care." 

"  Oh,  you  will  ?  I  suppose  you'll  give  her 
a  saucer  of  milk  and  a  nice  basket  to  sleep 
in  near  the  stove?" 

Further  discussion  was  cut  short  by 
the  appearance  of  Molly  who  announced, 
"Das  zweite  Fruhstiick  ist  fertig." 

Jack  frankly  expressed  his  joy  in  the 
abilities  of  Molly  as  a  cook.  He  was 
beginning  to  see  himself  sitting  down 
to  an  endless  succession  of  perfect  meals, 
served  by  a  quaint,  little,  pink  and  white 
doll  with  wooden-soled  shoes.  Philip, 
who  was  attempting  to  contemplate  her 
in  the  past  tense,  was  correspondingly 
depressed. 


LATER  BULLETIN  185 

"Cheer  up,  Phil."  Jack  allowed  him- 
self to  be  helped  a  second  time  to  omelette 
a  petit  pois.  "You  can  drop  in  at  my 
place  any  time.  There  will  always  be  a 
place  set  for  you." 

"Thanks  and  go  to  hell,"  murmured 
Philip  pleasantly. 

"You  know  you  can't  afford  to  pay  for 
meals  like  this.  Come  own  up  now, — 
how  much  did  she  spend  for  supplies?" 

"Seventy-six  cents." 

"Including  the  roses?  Don't  make  me 
laugh.  You  couldn't  do  it  in  Medicine 
Hat,  North  Dakota,  let  alone  New  York." 

"You  saw  the  change  she  gave  me.  I 
gave  her  two  dollars."  In  his  heart  Philip 
had  not  the  confidence  that  his  words 
conveyed.  He  was  remembering  with 
dismay  Molly's  medieval  methods  of 
securing  rations  that  morning.  He  was 
wondering  if  she  would  have  time  to  get 
away  before  the  police  came.  Perhaps 


186  MOLLY  AND  I 

she  would  be  safe  in  Jack's  apartment. 
Later  he  could  explain  to  his  friend  her 
primitive  notions  of  foraging. 

"I  think  I'll  take  her  over  with  me  now." 
Jack  decided,  after  luncheon  was  over. 
"Then  she  can  sort  of  get  used  to  things 
before  dinner." 

"All  right."   Philip  sighed.    "Molly—" 

She  came  to  him  trustfully. 

"  Ja,  Uncle  Sam." 

His  heart  smote  him  but  he  went  on. 

"Molly,  you  are  to  work  for  this  gentle- 
man. I  cannot  pay  you  but  he  can. 
Listen  —  gehe  mit."  He  pointed  to  Jack. 
"  Arbeiten."  He  made  motions  as  if  wash- 
ing dishes.  "Geld."  He  placed  her  hand 
in  Jack's. 

She  shook  hands  gravely  and  said  color- 
lessly, "Good-bye." 

"What?"  exclaimed  Jack. 

"I  taught  her  that  this  morning," 
Philip  hastened  to  explain,  "when  I  sent 


LATER  BULLETIN  187 

her  away.  She  doesn't  know  what  she  is 
saying." 

"Oh!" 

Jack,  still  holding  her  by  the  hand, 
started  across  the  room.  She  followed 
docilely  enough  until  he  opened  the  door, 
then  suddenly  she  pulled  back  and  burst 
into  a  torrent  of  German. 

"What's  it  all  about?"  Jack  was  start- 
led by  the  outburst. 

"She  wants  her  shawl  and  cap."  Philip 
interpreted,  getting  those  articles  for  her. 

"Nein,  nein,"  she  wailed.  "Nur  hier 
soil  ich  arbeiten." 

"Now  she's  ready,"  said  Philip. 

"All  right,  good-bye." 

Jack  started  to  lead  her  across  the 
threshold,  then  all  at  once  dropped  her 
hand  with  a  yell  of  pain. 

Molly  scurried  like  a  frightened  hen 
across  the  living-room  to  the  dark  recess 
of  the  kitchenette.  Philip  followed  her 


188  MOLLY  AND   I 

there.  She  fled  to  a  corner.  He  stood 
over  her.  She  dropped  on  her  knees  and 
took  his  hand,  looking  up  into  his  eyes 
with  tearfully  desperate  earnestness. 
"Choo,  —  choo,  —  choo,  —  Uncle  Sam  I 
love  you,  —  nicht  good-bye,"  she  repeated 
pleadingly. 

Philip  went  out  to  where  Jack  was  nurs- 
ing his  right  shin  carefully. 

"Come  on,"  Philip  invited,  leading  the 
way  out.  "I'm  going  to  see  if  I  can  get 
a  room  in  the  servants'  quarters  in  this 
building.  Molly  has  decided  to  stay." 

"That's  what  I  thought,"  growled  his 
friend.  Then  as  they  stood  waiting  for 
the  elevator  Jack  produced  a  five-dollar 
bill  which  he  handed  to  Philip. 

"What's  this  for?" 

"For  shoes  for  Molly,"  said  Jack,  then 
added  ruefully,  "without  wooden  soles." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  APARTMENT   IS   DISCOVERED   TO   BE 
LARGE   ENOUGH   FOR   TWO 


was  how  Molly  became  a  part  of 
the  machinery  of  Philip  Smith's  house- 
hold. He  told  her  that  he  would  soon  find 
a  good  position  for  her  and  return  to  his 
original  scheme  of  life.  This  was  at  first. 
After  she  had  been  there  a  few  days  he 
shamelessly  admitted  that  she  was  a  fix- 
ture and  he  made  a  permanent  arrange- 
ment for  sleeping  quarters  for  her  in  the 
same  building. 

He  found  that  he  felt  toward  her  as  no 
human  being  has  a  right  to  regard  another 
unless  he  is  the  Czar  of  Russia.  His  was 
a  benevolent  despotism  which  partook  a 
little  of  the  kindly  authority  of  parent- 


190  MOLLY  AND  I 

hood.  She  was  so  guileless  and  ignorant 
of  American  things  that  he  felt  that  he 
stood  between  her  and  destruction.  Then, 
too,  he  was  educating  her.  Every  day  he 
taught  her  a  few  words  which  she  picked 
up  with  surprising  rapidity  and  it  was  not 
long  before  she  was  able  to  understand 
simple  sentences,  although  she  was  not 
very  sure  of  English  constructions  and 
idiom  when  it  came  to  speaking  herself. 

She  had  a  marvelous  shopping  instinct. 
Money  in  her  hands  bought  such  surpris- 
ing quantities  and  qualities  that  Philip 
was  inclined  to  be  suspicious  but  as  the 
days  went  by  and  she  did  not  get  arrested 
he  ceased  to  think  about  it. 

He  had  given  her  the  five-dollar  bill 
which  Jack  had  contributed  toward  her 
wardrobe  and  instructed  her  to  get  sub- 
stitutes for  the  heavy  shoes.  She  managed 
in  addition,  to  secure  a  trim,  black  dress 
which  did  not  detract  in  the  least  from  her 


LARGE  ENOUGH  FOR  TWO  191 

appearance,  so  that  as  far  as  externals 
were  concerned  she  passed  easily  as  a 
regular  maid  of  all  work.  Philip  almost 
regretted  the  quickness  with  which  she 
had  become  Americanized. 

In  Molly's  education  Jack  had  also  been 
a  considerable,  although  not  necessarily  a 
helpful,  factor.  He  had  promptly  forgiven 
her  for  kicking  him  on  the  shins  and  she 
had  apologized  in  German  with  downcast 
eyes  the  very  next  day.  Jack  had  proved 
his  good  will  by  staying  to  dinner  and 
afterwards  .insisting  on  helping  with  the 
dishes  while  he  taught  her  a  collection  of 
perfectly  useless  words  such  as  "parabola," 
"isosceles"  and  "osteopath."  He  gave 
her  the  impression  that  they  were  highly 
potent  swear  words. 

All  day  Friday  of  that  week  Philip 
suffered  from  an  acute  sense  of  something 
he  had  to  do.  About  noon  he  discovered 
what  it  was. 


192  MOLLY  AND  I 

Jack  called  up. 

"Are  we  going  to  Boston?"  he  inquired 
over  the  telephone. 

"Great  Scott!"  Philip  ejaculated. 
"  That's  what  I've  been  trying  to  think  of." 

"Well,  don't  break  the  machinery  with 
undue  haste  but  shall  I  get  tickets?" 

"Why  -  -  let's  see,"  Philip  deliberated, 
"I  don't  believe  I  can  go." 

"Why  not?" 

"Working  on  a  story." 

"Rats.  You  finished  that  yarn  last 
night.  You've  struck  a  place  in  your  novel 
where  you  can't  go  any  further  for  a  while. 
You  told  me  so  yourself.  What  you  need 
is  to  get  away." 

"No,  honestly  I  can't  do  it."  Then  he 
added,  speaking  his  thoughts  absently, 
"I'm  afraid  Molly  wouldn't  know  what  to 
do  without  me." 

"Conceited  ass,"  came  sweetly  over  the 
instrument.  "If  that  is  what's  worrying 


LARGE  ENOUGH  FOR  TWO    193 

you  I'll  sacrifice  myself.  I'll  stay  home 
and  eat  Molly's  cooking.  Marian  doesn't 
care  whether  I  come  or  not,  anyway." 

"No,  I  couldn't  go  now.  I'll  tell  you: 
you  wire  Marian  we  are  detained  on 
business  and  that  we'll  both  come  next 
Thursday  and  stay  as  long  as  she 
likes." 

"Why  do  I  send  this  wire?  Why  do  I 
stand  here  in  this  stuffy,  drug-store  booth, 
while  you  sit  quietly  in  your  own  flat, 
listening  to  the  preparations  for  lunch? 
Why  do  you  have  all  the  luck?  Why  is  it 
that—" 

Philip  hung  up  the  receiver  and  laughed 
silently  at  his  mental  picture  of  Jack  ask- 
ing himself  questions  until  Central  re- 
quested him  to  drop  another  nickel. 

That  afternoon  Philip  sent  off  his  latest 
story  to  the  friendly  editor  who  had 
bought  some  of  his  other  work.  This  new 
one  he  felt  was  much  better,  more  real, 


194  MOLLY  AND  I 

somehow,  than  his  former  efforts  and  he 
was  eager  to  receive  the  praise  of  the 
magazine  man. 

On  his  way  home  Philip  bought  a  first 
reader  and  a  German  dictionary.  The 
English  language  might  as  well  be  at- 
tacked along  conventional  lines. 

Molly  was  delighted  with  the  reader  and 
for  some  reason  laughed  herself  almost 
into  hysterics  when  she  first  looked  at  the 
pictures.  Philip  failed  to  see  where  the 
comedy  came  in  but  he  flattered  himself 
that  his  sense  of  humor  was  too  highly 
cultivated  to  be  amused  at  the  same 
things  that  convulsed  a  German  peasant 
girl. 

They  had  some  difficulty  over  the  first 
lesson  because  Molly  thought  the  picture 
of  the  cat  inaccurate  and  insisted  on  draw- 
ing it  over  again  with  a  curly  tail.  When 
she  had  the  illustration  corrected  to  her 
satisfaction,  however,  she  proved  a  docile 


LARGE  ENOUGH  FOR  TWO     195 

pupil  and  by  nightfall  could  read,  "See 
the  cat,"  clear  across  the  room. 

The  reading  lesson  became  part  of 
Philip's  general  daily  programme.  The 
rest  of  his  time  was  devoted  to  serious 
literary  labors  on  his  novel  which  strangely 
enough  commenced  to  write  itself,  even  at 
inconvenient  hours  of  the  night,  when 
Philip  personally  would  have  preferred  to 
sleep.  Molly  interfered  not  at  all.  Ex- 
cept at  meal  times  or  when  he  gave  her  a 
reading  lesson,  she  kept  to  her  own  room 
in  the  servants'  quarters  or  went  shopping 
for  bargains. 

Suddenly  it  became  "next  week  Thurs- 
day" long  before  Philip  expected  it  and 
he  had  to  go  to  Boston,  reluctantly  re- 
linquishing the  novel  and  Molly's  educa- 
tion. He  rebelled  strenuously  at  the  idea 
of  leaving  Molly  alone  in  the  city  but  as 
Jack  pointed  out  she  really  was  old  enough 
to  take  care  of  herself. 


196  MOLLY  AND  I 

Before  he  left,  however,  he  gave  Molly 
explicit  directions  in  words  he  had  taught 
her  himself  what  to  do  while  he  was  away. 
He  invented  strange  and  unnecessary 
tasks  of  cleaning  and  polishing  to  take  up 
her  time  and  keep  her  from  the  tempta- 
tions of  the  street.  Further  he  commanded 
her  to  write  a  letter  to  him  every  day  to 
let  him  know  how  she  was  getting  along. 
This  he  calculated,  judging  from  her 
habit  of  handling  a  pen  as  if  it  were  a 
clothes-pole  would  use  up  a  lot  of  time  and 
would  also  serve  to  a  certain  extent  in 
lieu  of  her  English  lesson. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

AN  ADDITION   TO   THE   FAMILY 

TV/TOLLY'S  first  letter  came  to  him  in 
Boston  on  Saturday.  It  was  written 
on  his  own  stationery  and  consisted  of 
equal  parts  of  scrawly  words,  spluttery 
blots  and  blistered  areas  which  Philip  with 
a  twinge  of  conscience  put  down  to  tear- 
stains  called  forth  by  the  unaccustomed 
literary  task.  It  read: 

Mein  lieber  Unkel  Sam:  — 

I  wurk  today.  The  kat  will  catch  the  rat. 
I  etc  tafy.  The  boy  down  stares  gif  me  him. 
I  like  him.  He  is  like  suger. 

Your  resp, 
Moly. 

Criticized  according  to  the  standards  of 
English  maintained  at  Harvard  it  didn't 


198  MOLLY  AND  I 

amount  to  much  but  as  the  composition  of 
a  scholar  of  only  two  weeks'  standing  it 
ranked  very  high.  Philip  showed  the 
letter  to  Jack  with  a  pride  that  made  no 
pretense  at  being  restrained. 

"Humph,"  sniffed  Jack,  holding  it 
gingerly  by  one  corner,  "it  looks  as  if  she 
used  her  finger  for  a  pen,  doesn't  it? 
Where  did  she  get  that  'Your  r-e-s-p?' 
That  doesn't  sound  like  Molly,  especially 
the  abbreviation."  He  turned  the  sheet 
of  paper  over.  "Oh!"  he  murmured. 

"Oh,  what?"  Philip  demanded. 

Jack  handed  back  the  note,  face 
down. 

On  the  back  Philip  read : 

P.S.  The  hal  boy  rote  this  for  me.  His 
name  is  Louie. 

"The  little  devil!"  Philip  ejaculated. 
"And  I  was  feeling  sorry  for  her  ink- 
stained  fingers." 


ADDITION  TO  THE  FAMILY    199 

Neither  of  the  men  had  mentioned 
Molly  to  Marian.  Philip  had  discovered 
on  attempting  to  marshal  the  account  of 
her  adventures  into  words  that  it  was  a 
hard  story  to  tell  to  a  woman  and  Jack 
followed  his  lead  without  comment. 

Marian  had  been  unaffectedly  glad  to 
see  them  both  and  every  effort  was  made 
by  the  members  of  the  large  and  clannish 
family  to  give  them  a  good  tune.  Judged 
from  the  standpoint  of  an  outsider,  Marian 
was  more  popular  with  her  relatives 
than  she  admitted.  She  seemed  in  fact 
a  brilliant,  adored  idol,  frankly  admired 
by  the  rest  of  the  family,  who  were  too 
busy  to  cultivate  external  beauty  in  them- 
selves. 

Philip  owned  to  feeling  vaguely  dis- 
appointed in  Marian  herself.  Surrounded 
by  big  brothers  and  sisters  and  nephews 
and  nieces  she  was  somehow  less  interest- 
ing than  when  he  had  regarded  her  as  a 


200  MOLLY  AND  I 

single,  rare,  exotic  flower  with  no  apparent 
logical  connection  with  the  commonplace 
flora  and  fauna  round  about.  Alone  with 
her,  he  had  felt  that  he  understood  her 
perfectly;  now  between  him  and  her  there 
stood  the  "family"  wall,  which  in  the 
home  camp  makes  even  the  most  intimate 
friends  seem  foreigners. 

On  Sunday,  Philip  had  suggested  going 
home  but  was  overruled  by  a  storm  of  pro- 
tests and  Marian's  reminder  that  he  had 
promised  to  stay  as  long  as  she  wished 
him  to. 

Monday  brought  a  second  letter  from 
Molly. 

Mein  lieber  Unkel  Sam:  — 

Louie  lern  me  lots  nu  wurds.  I  like  him. 
I  mus  cloz  and  go  muving  pitchers  mit  Louie. 

Yours  resp, 

Moly. 

Philip  packed  his  grip  before  he  an- 
nounced at  luncheon  that  he  must  catch 


ADDITION  TO  THE  FAMILY    201 

an  afternoon  train  to  New  York.  This 
time  Marian  made  no  appeal  save  a  look 
of  reproach. 

"I  have  to  keep  working  on  my  novel  or 
I'll  lose  the  thread  of  it,"  he  lied,  with  a 
voice  that  trembled  from  lack  of  familiar- 
ity with  untruth. 

Jack  laughed  and  then  covered  his  con- 
fusion with  a  clumsy  pretense  of  choking 
on  an  oyster. 

On  the  train  that  afternoon  Philip  told 
Jack  of  his  fears. 

"She  ought  not  to  go  places  with  that 
hall-boy.  We  don't  know  who  he  is." 

"We  don't  know  who  Molly  is,  as  far 
as  that  is  concerned,"  Jack  returned. 
"You  can't  expect  her  never  to  have  any 
more  pleasure  in  life,  just  because  she  works 
for  you.  Merely  regarding  your  counte- 
nance every  day  doesn't  take  the  place  of 
all  amusement,  you  know.  As  long  as  she 
can  cook  a  steak  the  way  she  does,  what 


202  MOLLY  AND  I 

do  you  care  how  she  spends  her  time  out- 
side of  work  hours?" 

"I  feel  responsible  for  her." 

Jack  sniffed  and  refused  to  discuss  it 
further. 

When  he  came  into  the  apartment 
building  that  evening  Philip  was  pleas- 
antly greeted  by  the  hall-boy  who  failed 
to  understand  why  Mr.  Smith's  response 
was  so  gruff. 

Still  wearing  an  air  of  displeasure  with 
the  world  in  general  he  let  himself  into 
his  apartment.  He  was  determined  to  be 
cross  no  matter  what  happened. 

At  the  sound  of  the  door  closing  with  a 
slam  Molly  came  out  of  the  kitchenette, 
her  face  wreathed  in  smiles. 

"Ach,  mein  Uncle  Sam,  Sie  sind  zuriick 
heimgekommen.  I  bin  glad." 

She  helped  him  off  with  his  overcoat 
and  put  that  and  his  hat  away.  He  did 
not  speak  to  her. 


ADDITION  TO  THE  FAMILY    203 

"I  get  etwas  to  eat,  ja?" 

''  Yes.    Is  there  anything  in  the  house?  " 

"  Ja.    I  thinked  you  come  to-day." 

"What?  You  thought  I'd  come  home 
to-day?  What  made  you  think  that?  " 

Molly  smiled  to  herself  and  replied  with 
a  long  German  sentence  which  Philip  did 
not  understand. 

He  growled  and  turned  automatically  to 
his  desk  to  examine  the  mail.  There  was  a 
letter  from  his  friend  the  editor  returning 
his  story.  He  regretted,  the  letter  ran, 
that  it  was  out  of  the  line  of  stuff  they  were 
using  in  his  magazine  and  advised  him  to 
stick  to  the  more  popular  style  of  slapdash 
fiction  until  he  could  command  a  market 
with  the  purely  literary  magazines. 

This  was  qfstinctly  depressing  and  took 
the  edge  off  from  the  role  he  was  playing. 
It  is  poor  comfort  to  be  told  your  output 
is  so  good  you  can't  sell  it.  The  world 
was  presenting  to  him  a  very  cold  shoulder. 


204  MOLLY  AND  I 

Incidentally  he  had  depended  on  the  sale 
of  that  manuscript  for  living  expenses.  He 
would  have  to  practice  rigid  economy  until 
he  could  write  a  potboiler  of  some  kind. 

He  was  occupied  earnestly  with  the 
problem  of  maintaining  existence  when 
Molly  announced  dinner,  and  he  absent- 
mindedly  consumed  almost  all  of  an  ex- 
cellent puree  before  he  noticed  anything 
different  about  the  table. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  he  commented,  "that 
the  silver  looks  brighter  than  it  ever  did 
before.  You  didn't  buy  new  silverware, 
did  you,  Molly?" 

"Nein,"  she  replied.  "I  shine  him  ein 
wenig,  that's  all." 

"Oh!"  Philip  picked  up  a  spoon  and 
examined  the  back  of  it.  "Did  you  put 
the  'Sterling'  mark  on  it  too?" 

"I  weiss  nicht  what  you  say,  *  Sterling 
mark.'" 

"No,  of  course  not.    It's  funny,  though, 


ADDITION  TO  THE  FAMILY    205. 

that  an  apartment  building  like  this  should 
furnish  solid  silver  tableware." 

Everything  about  the  apartment  wore 
a  virtuous  air  of  soap  and  water.  The 
somewhat  shabby  window  curtains  had 
been  replaced  with  soft,  rather  bright- 
colored  ones  of  some  cheap  material. 
Philip  inquired  about  them. 

"Louie,  he  take  me  always  to  dinner," 
Molly  explained.  "I  buy  things  mit  what 
you  give  me  for  eating." 

Philip  found  it  impossible  to  be  as  cross 
as  he  wished  at  the  thought  of  Molly 
going  out  with  Louie  to  save  money  for 
household  improvements.  He  compro- 
mised with  his  temper  by  saying  nothing. 
Molly  seemed  disappointed. 

After  dinner  she  brought  a  rather  bulky 
package  and  laid  it  on  the  table  before  him. 

"What's  that?"  he  demanded. 

"Surprise,"  she  ejaculated. 

"Undoubtedly." 


.206  MOLLY  AND  I 

"I  learn  me  that  word  by  Louie." 

Philip  untied  the  parcel  and  removed 
the  wrappings.  Contained  therein  was  a 
magnificently  .ornamental  clock  so  bril- 
liantly gilded  that  it  hurt  the  eyes  to  look 
at  it.  Philip  was  stunned.  There  was  a 
card  attached  to  it. 

He  read,  "Klok  frum  Moly." 

Molly  clapped  her  hands. 

"Did  you  buy  this?"  he  demanded. 

"Der  Spetzereinhandler  give  me  him 
for  trading  stamps,"  she  explained  glee- 
fully, then  contemplating  their  acquisition 
critically,  she  added,  "It  ticks  loud." 

"That  is  very  essential  to  a  good 
clock."  Philip  was  forced  to  unbend  be- 
fore her  delight  in  making  him  a  present. 
"You  shall  wind  it,  Molly,  and  no  one  else 
shall  ever  touch  it.  This  little  clock's 
life  will  depend  entirely  upon  you.  If 
you  let  it  run  down,  no  one  else  will  ever 
start  it  again." 


ADDITION  TO  THE  FAMILY    207 

The  ceremony  of  winding  the  machinery 
and  setting  the  hands  over,  Philip  placed 
the  golden  horror  on  the  mantelpiece. 
They  contemplated  it  in  an  admiring  si- 
lence broken  only  by  the  cheerfully  noisy 
"tick-tock"  of  the  new  member  of  the 
family. 

"She  clucks  like  a  hen,"  Molly  com- 
mented. 

"Thank  you  ever  so  much,  Molly,  for 
the  clock.  It  is  just  what  we  needed  and 
it  certainly  ticks  beautifully.  I  don't 
think  I  have  ever  been  so  pleased  with  a 
present  in  my  life." 

"  It  costs  not  much,"  Molly  apologized, 
diffidently. 

"That  is  one  of  the  charming  things 
about  poverty,  Molly.  People  who  have 
lots  of  money  can't  appreciate  little  things 
the  way  we  can.  I  'know  because  once  I 
had  money." 

"I  sorry,  —  you  lose  him." 


208  MOLLY  AND  I 

"I'm  not,"  Philip  patted  her  arm 
gently,  "because  if  I  hadn't  lost  my  money 
I  wouldn't  have  found  you." 

"But  you  not  find  me,  —  I  find  you." 

"Have  it  your  own  way.  It  isn't 
customary,  however,  for  a  woman  to  in- 
sist on  the  literal  translation  of  a  near- 
proposal.  If  you  prefer  to  consider  your- 
self Columbus  I  will  take  the  minor  role 
of  the  boiled  egg  or  whatever  it  was  he 
discovered." 

Molly  dwelt  upon  his  speech  mystified. 
"You  —  use  —  such  —  big  —  words  — 
das  ich  nicht  verstehen." 

"That,"  returned  Philip  airily,  "is  why 
I  employed  the  polysyllables.  With  the 
aid  of  a  dictionary  I  could  say  almost  any- 
thing to  you  without  any  danger  of  a  suit 
for  breach  of  promise,  you  adorable  minx." 

Molly  went  back  to  her  work,  humming 
softly  to  herself,  and  Philip  reluctantly 
allowed  a  feeling  of  happiness  and  content- 


ADDITION  TO  THE  FAMILY    209 

ment  to  banish  his  grouch.  After  all  she 
had  been  thinking  of  his  comfort  while  he 
had  been  away  and  she  couldn't  have  had 
time  for  much  mischief  with  the  amount 
of  cleaning  she  had  done.  A  man  couldn't 
help  being  agreeable  while  he  listened  to 
that  voice  and  that  little  haunting  melody 
she  seemed  always  to  be  singing.  He  had 
a  remembrance  of  having  heard  the  music 
before  but  couldn't  fit  words  to  it.  No 
matter,  it  was  probably  a  German  folk 
song. 

He  sat  rocking  his  mind  in  a  cradle  of 
pleasant  thoughts  long  after  Molly  had 
gone  for  the  night.  For  the  first  time  in 
his  life,  without  knowing  just  why,  he 
found  that  he  was  contented,  that  despite 
the  fact  that  he  was  not  sure  how  to  pay 
for  next  week's  groceries  there  was  really 
nothing  he  wanted  that  he  did  not  have. 


CHAPTER  XV 

TWO  LADIES   DISCOVER   THE  EXISTENCE  OF 
EACH   OTHER 

TT  was  a  month  before  Marian  returned 

and  in  celebration  Philip  gave  a  dinner 
for  her  in  the  apartment.  Jack  was,  of 
course,  included  in  the  party. 

Both  men  met  her  at  the  railroad  station. 

Marian  was  slightly  mystified  when  they 
spoke  of  eating  at  Philip's  flat  but  supposed 
that  they  intended  having  dinner  brought 
up  from  the  cafe  and  made  no  comment. 

When,  however,  they  were  seated  at  a 
faultlessly  appointed  table  and  Molly 
came  in  from  the  kitchenette  with  the 
soup,  Marian  opened  her  eyes  wide  with 
astonishment.  Not  a  detail  of  Molly's 
features  or  clothing  escaped  her  scrutiny. 


TWO  LADIES  211 

"Explain,"  she  requested  smiling,  when 
Molly  had  finished  serving  and  gone  away 
again.  "Does  she  come  from  the  res- 
taurant downstairs  or  did  you  have  a 
catering  company  send  in  a  meal  with  her 
to  serve  it?" 

"Molly?"  Philip  returned,  with  pon- 
derous carelessness.  "She's  just  my  maid 
of  all  work." 

"Maid?  Do  you  mean  she  is  here  all 
the  time  and  gets  all  your  meals?" 

"  Why,  yes.    What  do  you  think  of  her?" 

"I  think  she  is  too  pretty  altogether," 
Marian  laughed,  with  a  confidence  bred  of 
a  knowledge  of  her  own  good  looks.  "That 
is,  she  is  too  pretty  for  you.  Let  me  have 
her.  I'll  trade  you  a  nice,  great,  big,  black 
one  for  your  tiny,  little,  pink  one." 

"It  won't  work,"  Jack  declared.  "I 
tried  to  steal  her  away  from  him  but  all  I 
got  for  my  trouble  was  a  kick  in  the  shins." 

Marian  laughed  aloud. 


MOLLY  AND    I 

"I  can't  imagine  Phil  kicking  you  in  the 
shins,"  she  exclaimed. 

Jack  glanced  carelessly  at  Philip,  the 
latter  winked  imperceptibly  and  they  both 
joined  in  Marian's  laughter. 

If  the  guest  had  made  a  careful  inven- 
tory of  the  servant's  appearance  there  was 
no  lack  of  shrewdness  in  the  appraising 
look  with  which  the  servant  honored  the 
guest  when  next  she  entered  the  dining- 
room.  Her  feminine  eye  dwelt  lovingly  on 
the  perfect  fit  of  Marian's  gown  and  paid 
tribute  to  the  simple  but  effective  coiffure 
created  from  the  wealth  of  Marian's  hair. 

Jack,  who  sat  across  the  table  from 
Marian,  caught  Molly's  eye  as  she  was 
standing  behind  the  guest's  chair,  balanc- 
ing a  bowl  of  gravy  in  her  hand.  Molly 
blushed  at  being  discovered  in  envious 
contemplation  of  the  other  woman.  She 
looked  inquiringly  at  Jack  and  made  a 
motion  as  if  to  tip  the  contents  of  the 


TWO  LADIES  213 

gravy  bowl  over  Marian's  head.  Jack, 
with  horror-stricken  eyes,  shook  his  head 
vehemently. 

"What  on  earth  is  the  matter,  St. 
Vitus?"  Marian  saw  his  apparently  mean- 
ingless motions. 

"He's  flirting  with  Molly/5  Philip  ex- 
plained. "He  has  spoiled  her  so  already 
that  I'll  have  to  fire  her  about  next  week 
if  she  doesn't  reform." 

"It  seems  to  me  that  you  discuss  her 
rather  freely  when  she  is  present."  Ma- 
rian administered  the  reproof  smilingly. 

"She  doesn't  understand  what  we  say," 
Jack  assured  her.  "Her  residence  in  this 
country  has  been  of  but  six  weeks'  dura- 
tion, so  she  knows  only  a  few  English  words. 
When  Phil  really  wants  to  make  her  un- 
derstand anything  he  tells  it  to  her  in 
German." 

Molly  coughed  suddenly  and  left  the 
room  in  a  fit  of  choking. 


214  MOLLY  AND  I 

The  conversation  shifted  to  other  topics. 
They  were  quite  the  light-hearted  trio 
they  had  always  been.  Marian  devoted 
most  of  her  attention  and  all  of  her  wiles 
to  Philip,  but  Jack  took  that  as  a  matter 
of  course  and  interjected  remarks  into  the 
dialogue  only  when  it  seemed  a  social  duty. 

After  the  dinner  he  lounged  out  in  the 
kitchenette,  ostensibly  helping  Molly  with 
the  dishes  and  teaching  her  English. 

Molly  did  not  respond  to  his  gaiety  as 
buoyantly  as  usual. 

"What's  the  matter,  youngster?"  Jack 
demanded,  polishing  a  glass. 

"Matter?"  she  repeated. 

"Yes.    Why  so  dismal?    No  smile?" 

"Oh,  I  not  know." 

"Don't  you  like  Mrs.  Sutherland?" 

"She  much  pretty,  ja."  Molly  made  a 
gesture  indicating  the  woman  in  the  next 
room. 

"Exactly." 


TWO  LADIES  215 

"Why  you  not  marry  with  her?" 

"Me?  There  are  lots  of  reasons.  For 
one  thing  she  hasn't  asked  me  to." 

"Did  she  ask  Uncle  Sam?" 

"I  don't  know.  How  would  you  like 
that?  Then  maybe  they'd  have  a  nice 
big  flat  for  you  to  work  in  and  later  you 
could  be  nursemaid  and  take  care  of  their 
babies." 

"No,  —  no."    Molly  stamped  her  foot. 

Jack  looked  at  her  in  surprise. 

Molly  suddenly  picked  up  the  glass 
Jack  had  been  wiping,  held  it  to  the  light 
and  pointed  out  several  specks  of  lint  on 
its  polished  surface. 

"All  right,  I'll  do  it  over  but  you  needn't 
bite  off  my  ears  just  for  that." 

Philip  called  from  the  other  room, 
"Molly." 

She  hastily  substituted  a  service  apron 
for  the  checkered  one  she  was  using  to  wash 
dishes  in  and  entered  the  living-room. 


216  MOLLY  AND  I 

Marian,  stretched  at  indolent  length  in 
the  Morris  chair,  was  smoking  a  cigarette. 

"Bring  an  ash  tray  for  Mrs.  Suther- 
land," Philip  directed. 

Molly  did  so.  Then  she  found  Philip's 
box  of  cigars,  allowed  him  to  select  one, 
and  offered  the  box  to  Marian. 

Marian  laughed.    "No,  thank  you." 

The  two  women  looked  at  each  other 
squarely.  Finally  Marian  took  a  puff  at 
her  cigarette,  inhaled  the  smoke  and  blew 
it  out  languidly.  Molly  blushed. 

"You  may  go,  Molly,"  Philip  interjected, 
nervously.  "That  is  all  I  wanted." 

A  light  flashed  in  Molly's  eyes,  immedi- 
ately extinguished  by  a  look  of  soft  sub- 
mission as  she  turned  to  Philip. 

"Uncle  Sam,"  she  started,  and  then 
stopped. 

"Yes,  Molly,  what  is  it?" 

"Is  she,"  Molly  nodded  toward  Marian, 
"is  she  'adorable  minx'  too?" 


TWO  LADIES  217 

In  the  hot  silence  that  fell  Molly  scurried 
to  the  kitchenette,  unanswered. 

For  a  while  the  dishwasher  worked  in 
silence.  Finally  she  broke  her  reverie. 

"You  take  her  home  to-night,  yes?" 

"You  bet,"  Jack  replied.    "Why?" 

"I  just  ask  to  know."  Molly  sighed 
with  relief. 

Late  that  night,  while  Marian,  Jack  and 
Philip  smoked  and  lounged  and  discussed 
art,  literature  and  themselves,  a  tiny  figure 
in  a  narrow  bed  in  a  box-like  room  down 
in  the  servants'  quarters  tossed  and 
squirmed,  buried  its  face  in  the  pillow, 
turned  the  pillow  over,  doubled  it  up  and 
finally  threw  it  out  on  the  floor.  After  an 
hour  or  so  the  owner  of  that  restless  body 
got  up  and  turned  on  the  light. 

With  feverish  haste  she  dressed  her  hair 
in  a  fair  imitation  of  the  way  Marian  wore 
hers.  Then  she  threw  back  her  nightdress 
from  her  slender  young  shoulders  and 


218  MOLLY  AND  I 

draped  it  in  an  impromptu  decollete. 
This  done  she  confronted  herself  tragically 
in  the  small  mirror  over  her  washstand 
and  subjected  her  face  and  figure  to  a  piti- 
less scrutiny. 

At  length  a  smile  broke  over  her  features, 
the  reflection  smiled  back  at  her,  then  she 
laughed,  turned  out  the  light  and  went 
back  to  bed. 

This  time  she  slept. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  COST   OF  LIVING 

days  rolled  on,  each  of  the  good 
ones  being  marked  with  the  completion 
of  a  chapter  of  the  novel,  the  bad  ones  with 
restless  pacing  of  the  floor  and  irritable 
depression.  Molly  had  the  run  of  the  house- 
hold so  completely  organized  and  knew 
Philip's  moods  so  well,  that  she  managed 
to  help  a  great  deal  by  serving  meals  at 
unobtrusive  intervals  and  keeping  care- 
fully in  the  background  at  other  times. 
In  fact  she  spoiled  him  so  thoroughly  that 
he  often  doubted  whether  he  would  ever 
be  able  to  work  under  ordinary  conditions 
again  without  her  to  serve  as  a  buffer  be- 
tween him  and  the  annoyance  of  physical 
existence. 


220  MOLLY  AND  I 

He  had  given  her  what  money  he  had 
but  it  wasn't  much  and  one  morning  be- 
fore settling  down  to  his  work  he  held  a 
session  of  the  finance  committee. 

"How  much  money  have  we  got, 
Molly?" 

Molly  was  clearing  the  breakfast  dishes 
from  the  table  but  she  abandoned  her  task. 

"Wait  until  in  the  book  I  look  him  up." 

She  went  to  a  drawer  in  the  sideboard 
and  brought  out  a  large  ledger  which  she 
opened  on  the  table  and  pored  over 
industriously. 

"How  much  is  seventeen  dollars  when 
you  take  it  away  nineteen  dollars  and 
seventy-five  cents?"  she  asked  at  last. 

"Is  that  the  way  our  books  balance?" 

"Ja.     Yes." 

"Bring  it  here." 

She  carried  the  ledger  to  Philip's  desk 
and  pointed  to  the  place  with  her  finger. 

"Here  comes  it  in  and  here  goes  it  out." 


THE   COST  OF  LIVING      221 

"Oh  yes.  What  is  this?  Three  dollars 
for  c-h-o-o-s?" 

"He  is  for  me.  Choos  —  choos  — 
choos  — "  Molly  pointed  at  her  feet. 
"Herr  Herrick  give  us  the  money. 
Shouldn't  I  have  done  that?" 

"Of  course  you  should.  How  much 
money  have  we  got?" 

"Wait."  Molly  went  to  one  corner  of 
the  rug,  lifted  it  and  picked  up  some  coins 
from  beneath  it.  "How  much  is  one 
quarter,  one  dime,  one  nickel  and  one  cent? 
I  keep  one,  each  kind,  for  a  set."  She  held 
the  money  out  in  the  palm  of  her  hand. 

"  I  see,  —  so  that  when  we  haven't  any 
more  we  can  still  know  what  money  looks 
like.  You  have  forty-one  cents  according 
to  my  figures  and  we  owe  two  dollars  and 
seventy -five  cents  besides  your  wages  for 
some  weeks  past.  I  think  maybe  we  had 
better  economize  until  I  can  sell  something. 
Suppose  we  cut  out  the  eggs  for  breakfast." 


222  MOLLY  AND  I 

"Then  only  is  left  coffee  and  toast." 

"That's  enough.  I've  been  eating  too 
much  lately.  I'll  look  like  Jack  Herrick 
if  you  don't  look  out.  I  guess,"  he  con- 
cluded regretfully,  "I  will  have  to  aban- 
don the  great  American  novel  for  a 
day  or  so  and  write  something  with  a 
couple  of  murders  and  a  burglary  in  it. 
Crime  may  not  be  profitable  to  criminals 
but  it  certainly  does  pay  us  authors  and 
playwrights." 

The  next  morning  he  was  a  living  testi- 
mony to  his  industry.  The  breakfast  table 
found  him  haggard  and  limp  from  an  all- 
night  session  with  heroic  crooks  and 
virtuous  burglarines. 

True  to  his  instructions,  Molly  served 
him  a  breakfast  consisting  solely  of  toast 
and  coffee. 

"Bring  me  the  morning  mail,  Molly," 
he  directed.  "I'm  sorry  I  kept  you  wait- 
ing but  I  worked  late  last  night  and  over- 


THE   COST  OF  LIVING      223 

slept  this  morning.  Did  anyone  call  while 
I  was  asleep?" 

"Only  that  lady—" 

"Mrs.  Sutherland?" 

"Ja." 

"  Sorry  I  missed  her.  Did  she  leave  any 
message?" 

"No.    You  like  her  very  much?" 

"Oh,  yes.  I  think  she  is  very  inter- 
esting. Don't  you  like  her?  " 

"I  like  her  better,  I  think  maybe,  if 
you  don't." 

"Jealous?" 

"What's  jealous,  Uncle  Sam?" 

"It's  something  you  put  on  bread  and 
butter  when  you're  a  kid.  Hello,  what's 
this? "  Philip  ceased  talking  as  he  opened 
an  envelope  from  which  a  check  fell  out. 

There  was  a  brief  note  accompanying 
the  check  written  on  the  stationery  of  a 
downtown  firm  of  lawyers. 

It  read: 


224  MOLLY  AND  I 

Dear  Sir: — 

Your  wife  wishes  to  make  you  an  allowance 
and  we  enclose  her  check  for  one  hundred 
dollars  on  account. 

Yours  respectfully, 

Strong  and  McCloskey. 

"Molly,  come  here,"  Philip  explained. 
"Look  at  this  because  you  will  never  see 
so  much  money  again  in  all  your  life.  It's 
a  check  for  one  hundred  dollars.  See, 
here's  the  signature,  'Mary  Smith,'  and 
she's  worth  more  thousands  of  dollars  than 
you  have  cents  hidden  away  under  the 
rug.  Look  at  her  writing,  Molly.  It  isn't 
so  very  much  better  than  yours  but  when 
she  puts  her  name  on  a  paper  like  that 
every  man  in  the  world  would  fight  for  it 
while  if  you  wrote  your  name  there  I 
don't  suppose  anybody, would  give  a  hang 
for  it  except  me." 

Molly  looked  at  his  face  and  then  at  the 
check. 


THE   COST  OF  LIVING      225 

"Then  we  are  rich?" 

Philip  laughed. 

"Not  noticeably  so.  This  money 
doesn't  belong  to  us.  A  very  kind  lady 
sent  it  to  us  to  look  at,  but  I'm  pretty  sure 
she  knew  we  would  send  it  back."  He 
got  up  and  went  to  his  desk. 

Molly  started  to  clear  off  the  table. 

"Maybe  she  wants  to  see  if  we  would," 
she  said,  thoughtfully.  "Do  not  you  love 
Mary  Smith?"  Molly  halted  over  the 
name. 

"Bless  you  no.  She's  my  wife.  It  isn't 
stylish  to  love  your  own  wife,  —  not  in 
New  York,  anyway." 

"You  like  Mrs.  Sutherland  better?" 

"Of  course.  Now  you  stop  prying  into 
my  private  affairs  and  I'll  help  you  with 
the  dishes." 

Philip  placed  the  check  in  an  envelope 
which  he  addressed  to  "Mrs.  Philip  Smith, 
care  of  Dr.  Allen." 


"I  do  dishes  all  right  myself.  What 
you  pay  me  for,  I  ask?" 

"But  I  don't  pay  you,  so  it's  no  more 
than  fair  that  I  should  help.  Get  me  an 
apron." 

Molly  obediently  found  a  plaid  kitchen 
apron  and  tied  it  around  him  under  the 
arms.  This  left  a  good  deal  of  Philip 
exposed  at  either  end  and  gave  him  slightly 
the  appearance  of  a  premier  danseuse, 
all  but  the  pink  tights.  He  did  a  couple 
of  grotesque  steps  with  a  plate  in  his  hand 
like  a  tambourine. 

Molly  laughed.  "It's  fun  playing  house, 
—  yes,  Uncle  Sam?" 

A  rap  on  the  door  interrupted  his 
dancing. 

Molly  admitted  the  hall-boy  from  down- 
stairs. 

"How  do  you  do,  Louie?"  greeted 
Philip.  "Come  in." 

"Thank  you,  sir." 


THE   COST  OF  LIVING      227 

"Nice  day,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

Molly  finished  clearing  off  the  table  and 
put  a  figured  scarf  on  it  in  place  of  the 
table  cloth. 

"Have  a  chair,  Louie,"  said  Philip, 
determined  to  be  a  pleasant  host. 

"No,  thanks.  I  can't  stay  but  a 
minute." 

"Ah,  I  see.    You  came  on  business." 

"Yes,  sir.  It's  about  the  rent.  The 
agent  was  around  this  morning  before  you 
was  up.  He  asked  me  to  get  the  money 
from  you.  He  says  you're  a  month  behind 
and  he  has  to  have  the  com."  Louie  was 
visibly  embarrassed  by  his  role  of  collec- 
tor. is  You  see,  sir,  he  don't  know  you  very 
well." 

"No,  that's  true,"  admitted  Philip, 
"but  that  isn't  entirely  my  fault.  He  is 
one  of  the  most  diffident  men  I  ever  met. 
I  don't  really  blame  him  a  bit  for  wanting 


228  MOLLY  AND   I 

his  money.  Now,  I  don't  happen  to  have 
the  cash  this  morning,  but,  let  me  see," 
he  went  to  his  desk  and  picked  up  some 
manuscript,  "here  is  a  story  I  am  writing. 
I  figure  that  it  is  worth  about  seventy -five 
dollars.  I  will  give  it  to  you  just  as  it  is  for 
the  sixty  I  owe  you  and  you  can  finish  it  up 
to  suit  yourself.  Shall  I  read  it  to  you?" 

The  boy  shook  his  head  and  shifted 
nervously  on  his  feet. 

Molly  went  to  Philip's  desk,  picked  up 
the  envelope  addressed  to  Mrs.  Philip 
Smith  and  handed  it  to  him  with  an  ap- 
pealing look  in  her  eyes. 

Philip  shook  his  head. 

"No,  Molly,  we'll  fail  under  our  own 
banner  if  we  have  to,  but  we  won't  accept 
anything  we  can't  give  value  received  for. 
I'm  afraid  we  haven't  anything  more  to 
sell  here." 

He  turned  to  Louie. 

"I'll  have  to  think  up  some  scheme," 


THE   COST  OF  LIVING      229 

he  said.  "Come  up  in  a  couple  of  hours 
and  I'll  either  be  ready  to  pay  you  or  we'll 
move  out.  Molly,  I'll  toss  you  to  see  who 
washes  the  dishes.  The  other  one  will 
wipe  'em."  He  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket, 
then  withdrew  it  empty.  "Lend  me  a 
coin,  Louie." 

The  boy  gave  him  a  quarter.  Philip 
tossed  it  in  the  air  and  covered  it  between 
his  hand  and  the  table  as  it  came  down. 

"Call,  Molly,"  he  directed. 

"Heads." 

He  uncovered  the  coin. 

"You  win.  I'll  wash."  He  gave  the 
quarter  back  to  the  hall-boy,  who  auto- 
matically murmured,  "Thank  you,"  as 
if  it  were  a  tip. 

Philip  disappeared  into  the  kitchenette, 
whence  issued  soon  after  the  crash  and 
clatter  of  masculine  dish-washing.  The 
bell-boy  started  to  go. 

"Louie."    Molly  halted  him. 


230  MOLLY  AND  I 

"Yes,  ma'm."  * 

"Wait." 

She  took  a  roll  of  bills  from  her  waist. 
"Here,  take  those  and  don't  say  something 
to  him  about  it."  She  jerked  her  head 
toward  Philip  in  the  kitchen.  "Never 
mind  where  I  get  him.  You  take  those  and 
maybe  Uncle  Sam  shall  forget  all  about 
it." 

"  Gee,"  exclaimed  the  boy,  looking  at  the 
roll  of  bills.  "I'll  bet  that's  your  wages 
for  a  year.  Say,  would  you  mind  if  I  told 
you  that  I  think  you're  all  right?"  He 
fumbled  his  cap  in  boyish  embarrassment 
and  looked  at  the  floor. 

"Thank  you,  Louie,  and  would  you 
mind  if  I  tell  you  I  think  you  are  a 
very  nice,  young  boy?"  She  patted  his 
arm. 

"I  ain't  so  darn  young,"  he  muttered, 
kicking  his  heel.  "I'm  seventeen  and  I, 
—  oh,  darn,  I  can't  say  it." 


THE   COST  OF  LIVING      231 

He  turned,  covered  with  confusion,  and 
scurried  away  hastily. 

Molly  danced  up  and  down  with  pleas- 
ure at  this  evidence  of  her  powers. 

Philip  stuck  his  head  out  of  the  door  and 
caught  her  at  it. 

"Say,  Molly,"  he  reminded  her,  sar- 
castically, "this  is  no  dancing-class. 
Aren't  you  going  to  help?" 

"  Oh,  I  very  sorry,  Uncle  Sam,  but  Louie, 
he  is  so  nice." 

Philip  shook  his  fist  at  the  door  through 
which  the  boy  had  vanished.  "Well, 
damn  that  young  scoundrel ! " 

Molly  mimicked  him.  "Well,  damn 
that  young  scoundrel!" 

"No!  No!  "protested  the  man.  "Don't 
say  everything  that  I  do.  It  isn't  nice  for 
little  Dutch  girls  to  say  'damn." 

"All  right,"  Molly  agreed,  with  instan- 
taneous docility,  "I  say  'hell'  instead?" 

Philip   put   his  hand  firmly  over  her 


MOLLY  AND   I 

mouth,  thus  inadvertently  obliterating 
most  of  the  rest  of  her  features  except  her 
ears,  and  held  her,  thus  squirming,  while 
he  delivered  a  lecture  on  profanity. 

They  were  thus  playfully  engaged  when 
Jack  Herrick  entered,  as  usual,  without 
knocking.  At  sight  of  him  they  separated, 
laughing  but  unabashed. 

"Good  morning,  Jack,"  greeted  Philip. 

Jack  replied  gloomily,  "Good  morning." 

"Good  morning,  Herr  Herrick." 

"Don't  call  me  'Herr  Herrick.'  It 
sounds  as  though  you  were  stuttering. 
Call  me  'Old  Top'  or  'Fat'  or  'Mister.'" 

"I  shall  call  you  'Herr  Mister,'"  de- 
cided Molly,  as  she  marched  off  to  the 
kitchenette. 

"Now,  sit  down,  Jack,  and  tell  me  what's 
on  your  mind." 

"I  will,  if  you'll  take  off  that  thing 
you've  got  on,  that  makes  you  look  like  a 
Scotch  Salome  dancer." 


THE   COST  OF  LIVING      233 

"All  right,  although  as  far  as  that  goes 
I've  seen  you  wearing  this  very  apron, 
yourself." 

"Maybe,  but  you  do  it  with  an  aban- 
don that  is  disgraceful." 

"Well,  it's  off."  Philip  deposited  the 
offending  garment  on  a  chair.  "What's 
the  matter?" 

Jack  glanced  significantly  toward  the 
kitchenette.  "Molly." 

Philip  laughed.  "You,  too?"  He  sat 
on  the  edge  of  his  desk. 

"You're  doing  a  foolish  thing,  Phil." 

"What's  that?" 

"Marian  and  I  both  noticed  it  and  I 
decided  I'd  better  speak  to  you  about  it. 
You  are  thinking  of  falling  in  love  with 
Molly." 

Philip  smiled.  "  You're  mistaken,  Jack. " 
Then  after  a  pause  he  added,  "No,  by 
George,  now  you  mention  it,  I  believe  you 
are  right,  except  that  I'm  not  thinking  of 


234  MOLLY  AND   I 

falling  in  love  with  Molly.  I  don't  have  to 
think.  I've  done  it.  It's  accomplished." 

"But,  Phil,  she's  a  servant." 

"I  don't  know  that  it  makes  any  dif- 
ference much,  what  position  a  woman 
occupies,"  Philip  replied  slowly,  "if  she  is 
like  Molly.  You  old  fraud,  you  are  head 
over  heels  in  love  with  her  yourself." 

"I  know  it,"  Jack  returned  simply.  "I 
suppose,  maybe  that's  why  I  can't  stand 
idly  by  and  see  you  break  her  heart  with- 
out making  some  protest." 

"Break  her  heart?"  Philip  echoed. 
"Who  is  going  to  break  her  heart?  Man, 
I'll  marry  her." 

"You're  talking  nonsense,  old  man,"  Jack 
argued,  patiently.  "Marriage  would  only 
mean  unhappiness  to  both  of  you.  You 
don't  even  know  where  she  came  from." 

"She  came  in  a  silver  ship  with  cobweb 
sails  when  the  wind  was  blowing  straight 
from  fairyland." 


THE  .COST  OF  LIVING      235 

"Very  pretty,  but  not  particularly  sen- 
sible. Think  of  introducing  to  your 
friends  and  family  a  wife  who  speaks 
English  like  Sam  Bernard  and  eats  with 
her  knife." 

"She  does  not,"  retorted  Philip.    "She 
uses  a  fork  for  almost  everything  now  — ' 
he  smiled  reminiscently  " —  except  pie." 

"You're  not  being  fair  to  Molly.  You 
can't  ask  her  to  marry  you,  anyway. 
You're  already  married." 

"So  I  am,"  Philip  admitted.  "I  will 
be  careful  until  I  get  a  divorce,  but  I  warn 
you,  there  is  only  one  way  you  can  pre- 
vent a  horrible  mesalliance  between  Molly 
and  me." 

"How?" 

"By  marrying  her  yourself.  You're  an 
artist,  and  artists  don't  have  to  be  very 
particular  because  they're  bound  to  be 
unhappy,  anyway." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

HABITS   OF   THE   HEN 

1V/TANY  times  that  morning  after  Jack 
had  gone  Philip  laughed  silently  to 
himself.  •  How  ridiculous  to  apply  the 
standards  of  ordinary  convention  to  his 
relations  with  the  little  German  girl.  He 
had  hardly  stopped  to  try  to  define  what 
those  relations  were  before.  Even  now 
he  didn't  know  whether  he  thought  of 
her  as  a  child  or  as  a  woman.  Only  that 
morning,  in  getting  out  clean  clothing  from 
his  dresser,  he  had  discovered  that  all  his 
socks,  neatly  darned,  had  been  ornamented 
with  a  tiny,  green  spider  embroidered  on 
the  toe.  A  grown  woman  would  never 
have  done  a  thing  like  that.  Nor  would 
she  have  traded  an  old  pair  of  trousers  to 


HABITS  OF  THE  HEN       237 

a  junk  dealer  for  a  set  of  six  iron  stove 
lids  because  it  "seemed  like  a  lot.*' 

She  was  singing  in  the  kitchenette  the 
same  little  melody  he  had  heard  her  hum 
so  often. 

Philip  tapped  the  bell  on  his  desk. 
The  singing  stopped  and  Molly  came 
to  a  position  in  back  of  him  a  little 
to  one  side.  It  was  her  usual  re- 
sponse to  a  summons,  like  a  soldier's 
automatic  reaction  to  the  command  of 
"Attention." 

"Did  you  want  me,  Uncle  Sam?" 

Philip  did  not  turn  his  head,  but  kept 
on  pretending  to  write.  That  was  also 
part  of  the  usual  routine. 

Finally  without  looking  up  he  said, 
"Yes,  Molly.  If  you  will  get  your  reader 
I  will  give  you  your  lesson." 

"Yes,  sir." 

From  a  drawer  in  the  sideboard  Molly 
brought  a  worn,  cloth-covered  book  which 


238  MOLLY  AND  I 

she  deposited  gravely  on  the  desk  at 
Philip's  left  hand. 

After  an  interval,  devoted  also  to  an 
imitation  of  writing  on  Philip's  part  and 
respectful  attention  on  Molly's,  he  further 
commanded,  "Get  a  chair  and  sit  here 
beside  me." 

He  laid  down  his  pen  with  apparent  re- 
luctance and  picked  up  the  book  while  she 
dragged  a  chair  over  near  his. 

"Let's  see."  He  opened  the  book. 
"Where  were  we?  Oh,  yes,  —  lesson  six. 
I  can  tell  that  because  the  pages  we  have 
been  over  look  as  if  a  fox  terrier  had  been 
using  them  for  a  doormat.  Read  here." 

He  handed  her  the  open  book. 

Molly  bent  over  the  page  with  pain- 
ful earnestness.  After  a  protracted  study 
of  the  words,  during  which  she  mouthed 
them  over  silently  to  herself,  she  read 
slowly  and  haltingly.  "See  —  the  —  hen. 
She  —  is  —  awful  —  sea  —  sick  —  because 


HABITS  OF  THE  HEN       239 

—  she  —  ate  —  a  —  very  —  squirmy  — 
worm.'* 

Philip  halted  her  sternly.  "Is  that  in 
the  book?" 

"Not  all  of  it,"  Molly  returned,  glibly, 
"but  it  fits  the  picture  and  I  don't  know 
some  of  the  words." 

"Try  again,"  Philip  ordered. 

"See  -  -  the  -  -  hen,"  Molly  read  and 
then  stopped,  twisting  her  feet  up  in  the 
rungs  of  her  chair  in  an  agony  of  uncer- 
tainty over  the  next  word. 

"It  isn't  necessary  to  dislocate  your 
ankles  to  master  the  English  language," 
Philip  observed,  critically.  "Try  it  with 
both  feet  on  the  floor." 

Molly  set  her  shoes  squarely  on  the  rug 
and  started  again. 

"See --the  —  hen."  She  paused  and 
went  back  once  more  as  if  a  running  start 
might  carry  her  over  the  bad  spot.  "See 
the  —  hen  — " 


240  MOLLY  AND  I 

"You  have  that  much  perfectly,"  Philip 
commended.  "I  can  visualize  the  hen 
without  further  reiteration." 

"What  is  'L-a-g-s'?"  Molly  looked 
up  inquiringly,  her  finger  planted  firmly  on 
the  place  to  obviate  the  danger  of  the 
words  scurrying  away  while  she  wasn't 
looking. 

"What?" 

"L-a-g-s '?"  She  spelled  it  over  again 
laboriously. 

"Let  me  see  that!"  Philip  was  incred- 
ulous. "That  isn't  a  *g';  it's  a  'y'" 

"It  looks  like  a  *g'  to  me,"  Molly 
insisted  politely,  as  one  who  was  will- 
ing to  give  in  but  preferred  to  retain 
her  own  convictions.  "L-a-y-s.'  What 
is  that?" 

"Lays." 

"Oh!"  Molly  returned  to  the  book. 
"See  the  hen.  The  hen  lays  —  nice  — " 

"Well?" 


HABITS  OF  THE  HEN       241 

Molly  resorted  to  spelling  once  more. 
"'E-y-y-s.'" 

"No,"  Philip  corrected  her  patiently, 
"those  are  *gV  this  time." 

"Oh.  J  wish  they  wouldn't  jump 
around  so  much.  'E-g-g-s.'"  She  thought 
a  moment  and  then  spelled  it  over. 
" 'E-g-g-s.'" 

"You  know  that  word.  What  do  we 
have  for  breakfast?" 

"Oh,  I  know."  Molly  brightened. 
"The  hen  lays  nice  coffee." 

"No!  no!" 

"Toast?" 

"No;  eggs  — eggs!" 

"But,"  she  objected,  "we  don't  have 
eggs  any  more.  We  are  too  poor." 

As  she  leaned  over  her  book  a  small 
chamois  bag,  suspended  around  her  neck 
by  a  ribbon,  slipped  out  from  the  front 
of  her  waist.  Before  she  could  return  it 
Philip  noticed  it. 


MOLLY  AND  I 

"What  is  that?"  he  asked. 

"What?" 

"In  the  bag." 

Molly  tucked  it  away  hastily. 

"He  is  something  —  I  not  can  tell  you 
about  him  now.  He  bring  luck  if  you  not 
know.  Some  day  when  you  send  me  away 
for  always,  when  never  I  come  back  again, 
ever,  then  I  give  him  to  you,  —  you  open 
him." 

"If  that's  the  only  way  I  can  find  out,  I 
hope  that  I  shall  never  know." 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

THE  APARTMENT   IS  CROWDED 


/^iNE   fine  afternoon  Philip   discovered 
that  his  novel  was  done,   corrected 
and  rewritten. 

Further  than  that,  he  rather  liked  it. 
Not  that  he  had  any  illusions  that  it  made 
"The  Broad  Highway"  look  like  the  work 
of  a  hack  writer,  but  he  felt  that  he  had 
done  a  readable  yarn  of  a  type  that  the 
public  can  be  coaxed  to  buy. 

He  called  Molly  in  to  look  at  the  bulky 
pile  of  manuscript. 

"If  I  sell  it,  Molly,  I'll  buy  you 
a  new  hat  and  we'll  take  dinner  at  the 
Plaza." 

Her  eye  lighted  up  with  joy  for  an  in- 
stant, then  the  flash  died  away  as  she  said, 


244  MOLLY  AND   I 

"You  are  so  good,  Uncle  Sam,  but  that  I 
cannot  did." 

"Can't?    Why?" 

"One  takes  not  one's  servant  to  dine. 
I  might  get  —  what  you  call  —  fresh." 

"We'll  see  about  that." 

Philip  was  putting  his  manuscript  to- 
gether when  Jack  came  in  with  his  artist's 
paraphernalia  and  asked  if  Molly  could  be 
spared  to  pose  for  him. 

"I  need  her  for  an  illustration  I'm  doing." 

"Surely,"  Philip  acquiesced,  "if  she  is 
willing." 

"May  I  draw  your  picture,  Molly?" 
Jack  requested  of  the  young  lady  herself, 
who,  with  her  sleeves  rolled  up  and  work- 
apron  over  her  dress,  looked  the  incarna- 
tion of  industry. 

"Yes,  Herr  Mister.  Shall  I  dress  me 
up?" 

"No,  I  want  you  just  as  you  are.  Sit 
over  here  in  this  chair  and  I'll  have  a  sketch 


THE  APARTMENT  CROWDED    245 

in  a  minute,  —  that  is,  if  Philip  doesn't 
mind  my  working  here." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  his  friend  rejoined, 
"  if  you'll  be  fairly  quiet.  I  have  to  write 
a  letter  to  go  with  this  book,  so  whatever 
you  do,  don't  make  Molly  laugh,  because 
when  she  laughs  I  can't  think  of  a  single 
other  thing  in  all  the  world." 

Philip  inserted  a  piece  of  paper  in 
his  typewriter  and  began  to  write.  Jack 
arranged  his  drawing-pad  and  silently 
and  surely  began  to  block  in  a  sketch 
of  Molly. 

After  five  minutes  of  posing  Molly  be- 
gan making  frantic  faces. 

"Turn  your  head  a  wee  bit  this  way, 
Mollykin,"  Jack  requested,  "and  stop 
waggling  your  nose  or  I  can't  make  any 
picture." 

"If  I  don't  waggle  it,  it  will  itch  me  to 
death." 

"Scratch  it  then,  but  cease  your  imi- 


246  MOLLY  AND  I 

tation  of  the  Katzen jammer  Kids  while  I 
get  this  outline  done." 

Molly  was  silent  for  possibly  fifteen 
seconds  and  then  she  observed,  "I  don't 
believe  Uncle  Sam  is  working  at  all.  I 
think  he  is  watching  us." 

Philip  suddenly  discovered  that  his 
hands  were  lying  idle  in  his  lap  and  he 
hastily  and  noisily  attacked  his  type- 
writer. The  net  result  of  his  industry 
on  paper  was  a  statement  to  the  effect 
that,  "  Now  is  the  time  for  all  good 
men  and  true  to  come  to  the  aid  of 
their  party."  This  was  repeated  several 
times. 

Jack  shook  his  pencil  at  the  girl. 

"Molly,"  he  said,  "do  you  know,  I  am 
beginning  to  think  you  are  a  fraud." 

Molly  thought  a  moment  and  asked, 
"Is  a  fraud  something  that  lives  in  a 
puddle  like  a  toad?" 

"No,   and    you    know  it    isn't.     You 


THE  APARTMENT  CROWDED    247 

know  a  lot  more  than  anyone  thinks  you 
do." 

"Oh  yes.  I  learn  me  lots."  Molly 
evidently  regarded  her  education  com- 
placently. "Uncle  Sam,  he  learn  me." 

"You  know  lots  more  than  Uncle  Sam 
ever  taught  you." 

"No,  —  he  learn  me  all,  --  reading,  — 
spelling,  —  and  talking,  —  and  even  think- 
ing. I  think  I  like  talking  best." 

"So  I  gathered." 

"But  I  like  to  spell,  too.  I  spell  me  some 
words  better  as  Uncle  Sam.  I  can  spell 
'cat'  with  a  'k'  and  Uncle  Sam  never 
thought  of  that,  he  says.  Can  I  look  at 
the  picture  yet?  " 

"Not  yet;  maybe  in  a  minute." 

After  a  short  pause  Molly's  mind  as- 
serted more  thirst  for  information.  "Are 
you  a  great  artist,  Herr  Mister?" 

"No,  not  now,"  Jack  confessed.  "I 
was  a  great  artist  when  I  was  twenty-five. 


248  MOLLY  AND  I 

I  make  better  pictures  now  than  I  did  then, 
but  then  I  always  knew  that  I  was  going 
to  do  something  big  some  day;  now  I 
know  that  I  probably  never  will." 

"I  don't  think,"  Molly  halted,  "that  I 
understand  what  you  mean." 

"I  didn't  think  that  you  would." 

Before  the  sitting  was  over  Marian  came 
in,  wearing  a  great,  heavy,  fur  coat  and 
carrying  a  huge  muff. 

"May  I  bother  you  for  a  moment?  "  she 
asked  at  the  door,  not  coming  in  until  she 
was  sure  she  was  invited. 

"Of  course,"  Philip  welcomed  her,  "if 
you'll  explain  the  disguise.  It's  rather 
late  for  bears  at  this  time  of  year.  Most 
of  your  pals  have  hunted  up  hollow  trees 
for  the  winter." 

"My  brother  sent  his  touring  car  out 
for  me  to  play  with  and  I've  come  to  take 
you  and  Jack  riding.  Will  you  come?" 

"If  you'll  wait  a  minute  or  so  until  I 


THE  APARTMENT  CROWDED    249 

can  get  this  manuscript  wrapped  up,  we'll 
take  it  along  and  leave  it  on  the  door-step 
of  a  publisher  I've  heard  of  who  is  very 
kind  to  orphan  novels.  In  the  meantime 
let's  take  off  the  Siberian  Mother  Hub- 
bard  so  you  won't  take  cold." 

As  he  put  his  arms  across  her  shoulders 
from  the  back  to  lift  the  fur  coat  she  turned 
her  face  and  the  back  of  his  hand  touched 
her  cheek  which  was  pleasantly  cold. 
Shamelessly  she  turned  her  head  a  little 
further  until  her  lips  brushed  his  hand. 

Then  she  laughed  impudently  in  his  face. 

Philip  surveyed  her  slender  figure  with 
approval. 

"Inside  the  husk  you  aren't  big  enough 
to  scare  me  at  all.  You  peel  down  like  a 
Chinese  nested  egg." 

"Sir!"  she  exclaimed,  with  a  mock  ex- 
pression of  horror,  then  smiled.  "Accord- 
ing to  the  latest  dictates  of  modern  fash- 
ion, however,  the  next  peeling  doesn't 


250  MOLLY  AND   I 

amount  to  much.  If  this  dress  was  any 
tighter  I  couldn't  get  it  on  a  nail  in  the 
closet." 

Philip  drew  up  a  chair  beside  his 
desk. 

"Sit  down,"  he  requested.  "Don't 
mind  if  Jack  doesn't  pay  any  attention  to 
you.  He  is  doing  a  sketch  of  Molly,  as 
you  may  have  noticed." 

"I'm  very  much  displeased  with  Jack," 
Marian  said,  as  she  sat  down.  "He  has 
neglected  me  shamefully  of  late.  When- 
ever I  want  him  he  is  over  here." 

"Jack  and  I  are  old  friends.  You 
must  forgive  me  if  I  use  up  a  lot  of 
his  time." 

"You  flatter  yourself  if  you  think  you 
are  the  attraction." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Look  at  him." 

Jack  was  exhibiting  his  sketch  to  Molly 
who  had  left  the  seat  where  she  had  been 


THE  APARTMENT  CROWDED    251 

posing  and  was  now  perched  on  the  arm 
of  Jack's  chair,  swinging  her  foot  idly  and 
smiling  down  into  his  face. 

Philip  sighed.  "I  wonder  if  you  are 
right." 

"Poor  Jack!" 

"Why,  'poor  Jack'?" 

"Suppose  he  should  take  it  into  his 
head  to  marry  her." 

"Why  not?"  Philip's  loyalty  to  both 
Molly  and  Jack  was  aroused. 

"A  struggling  artist  with  a  wife  to  drag 
him  down?  You  artists  and  authors  must 
marry  women  of  culture  who  can  help 

you." 

Molly  was  delighted  with  her  own  por- 
trait. 

"It  is  much  —  what  you  call  him,  - 
much  gooder  than  what  you  ever  did." 

"Well,"  admitted  the  artist,  "I  never 
had  such  a  good  model  before." 

"You  think  I  am  a  good  model?" 


MOLLY  AND  I 

"Yes." 

"Maybe  then  if  you  draw  me,  you  a 
great  artist  should  be." 

"If  I  could  always  draw  you,  I'm  sure 
of  it."  The  reawakening  fires  of  ambition 
wiped  out  ten  of  Jack's  forty -odd  years. 
"It  is  because  I  haven't  had  you  that  I'm 
not  a  great  artist.  Every  other  woman  I 
ever  knew  turned  out  to  be  worse  than  the 
pictures  I  made  of  her,  but  I  could  draw 
you  all  the  rest  of  my  life  and  never  get  all 
the  wonder  of  you  on  paper." 

A  frightened  look  came  into  Molly 's  eyes. 

"Jack,"  she  exclaimed,  as  if  she  would 
stop  him. 

"I  might  as  well  tell  it  now,  Molly,"  he 
continued,  calmly.  "I  love  you  and  want 
you  to  marry  me."  He  paused  a  moment 
and  looked  into  her  eyes.  "But  you 
needn't  tell  me  the  answer.  We  will  now 
pass  to  a  discussion  of  why  there  is  so 
much  salt  in  grandma's  buckweat  pan- 


THE  APARTMENT  CROWDED  253 

cakes.    Excuse  me  while  I  whistle  the  Wed- 
ding March  by  Chopin." 

Molly's  eyes  were  nearly  filled  up  with 
tears. 

"Jack,"  she  said,  "I  mean,  Herr  Mister 

j> 

"  Call  me  Jack.    It  makes  it  easier." 

"All  right,"  Molly  acquiesced.  " I  think 
you  are  one  of  the  -  She  searched  her 
brain  for  the  right  adjective. 

"Fattest  men  you  ever  knew,"  supplied 
Jack. 

"  No,"  she  protested.  "  Don't  make  joke. 
I  hurt  me  in  here."  She  touched  her 
throat.  "  I  do  love  you  so  much  but  not — " 

"The  way  you  do  someone  else?" 

She  nodded. 

"I  was  afraid  so.    I'm  sorry,  I'm  sorry." 

"Who  you  sorry  for?" 

"God  help  us,  Molly,  I'm  sorry  for  all 
of  us.  I  hoped  I  could  save  you  a  heart- 
ache —  and  Phil." 


254  MOLLY  AND  I 

When  Philip  was  quite  ready  to  go  he 
helped  Marian  on  with  her  coat  once  more. 

"I'll  be  back  in  an  hour  or  so,"  he  told 
Molly. 

"You'll  want  something  warm  to  wear," 
Marian  advised,  as  Philip  got  his  hat. 
"Where's  your  winter  overcoat?" 

Philip  paused  and  smiled. 

"If  you  insist  on  knowing,  it  is  here  in 
this  package."  He  tapped  the  novel. 
"For  its  size  that  bundle  contains  a  sur- 
prising number  of  things.  For  instance 
you'd  never  think  to  look  at  it  that  there 
was  a  sack  of  flour  in  it  and  a  pair  of  shoes, 
and  a  bunch  of  violets  with  an  orchid  in  the 
middle  for  a  lady  who  is  kind  to  us  and 
maybe  a  Christmas  tree, — who  knows? 
Pandora's  box,  itself,  contained  little  more 
than  this  commonplace,  brown  paper 
parcel." 

"But  you'll  freeze  on  the  open  car," 
protested  Marian. 


THE  APARTMENT  CROWDED    255 

"No,  I  won't,"  said  Philip.  "Authors 
who  have  just  finished  novels  don't  freeze, 
-  not  unless  they  get  them  back.  Come 
on,  before  the  winter  sun  goes  down." 

At  the  curb  Jack  begged  to  be  excused 
from  going  with  them. 

"I  have  to  finish  this  picture."  He  in- 
dicated the  sketch  of  Molly. 

When  they  were  started  with  the  keen 
air  rushing  by,  taking  each  word  from  their 
mouth  and  hurling  it  back  over  their 
shoulders,  Philip  said,  "That  was  all 
nonsense  about  finishing  the  picture.  He 
can't  see  to  work  much  more  to-day. 
What's  the  matter,  I  wonder?" 

"  My  friend,  he  is  in  love,  I  tell  you.  He 
would  rather  be  alone  with  his  picture  of 

her  than  to  have  his  thoughts  distracted 

i_         " 
by  us. 

"I  can't  believe  it  is  so  very  serious." 
"You  don't  have  to.    Love  is  a  subject 
you  don't  know  as  much  about  as  I  do." 


256  MOLLY  AND  I 

"Don't  be  too  sure,"  he  retorted. 
"I've  been  writing  love  stories  all  my  life." 

"Any  woman  in  the  world  knows  more 
about  love  than  the  greatest  male  author 
that  ever  lived." 

"If  you  mean  me,"  Philip  murmured, 
in  mock  modesty,  "I  think  you  are  putting 
it  a  trifle  too  strong." 

A  little  later,  Philip,  whose  mind  was 
still  dwelling  on  the  strange  behavior  of 
Jack,  said  apropos  of  nothing  in  particu- 
lar, "I  don't  think  it  is  quite  fair  for  Jack 
to  fall  in  love  with  my  housekeeper.  Why, 
he  might  even  take  her  away  from  me  and 
then  where  would  I  be?" 

"I  don't  suppose  he  thinks  of  that. 
You  know  the  rules  of  love  and  warfare 
are  strikingly  similar." 

Philip  sighed.  "I  suppose  you  are 
right." 

"Of  course.  What  would  you  do  if  you 
loved  a  woman  who  needed  you  and  be- 


THE  APARTMENT  CROWDED    257 

tween  you  and  her  stood  the  physical 
comfort  of  some  friend?" 

"I'd  waltz  on  the  ribs  of .  aforesaid 
friend,  of  course,  — "  Philip  laughed. 

"There  you  are.  The  non-combatant 
on  the  field  of  battle  is  more  apt  to  get 
hurt  than  the  man  behind  the  gun." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

BUT  SUDDENLY  BECOMES  LONELY 

AT  Philip's  apartment  the  brightly 
gilded  clock  ticked  loudly  on,  vieing 
with  Molly's  voice  as  she  sang  about  the 
business  of  getting  dinner.  Later,  when  it 
was  quite  dark  and  dinner  was  all  ready  to 
be  eaten,  it  ticked  impatiently,  asking 
where  the  deuce  this  man  could  be  at  meal- 
time. Then,  later  still,  when  the  dinner 
was  cold  and  spoiled,  it  dragged  its  steps 
slowly  across  the  silence  of  the  apartment 
like  a  weary  sentinel. 

Molly  sat  at  the  window  and  waited,  - 
not  that  she  could  see  him  if  he  came  down 
the  street  but  because  it  is  a  sort  of  instinct 
with  women  to  look  out  into  the  night  for 
their  absent  ones  and  to  place  a  light  in 
the  window  for  then*  safe  return. 


SUDDENLY  BECOMES  LONELY  259 

From  her  window  she  could  see  the 
luminous  canon  of  Broadway,  alive  with  a 
myriad  of  sliding  lights.  There  was  no 
sound  of  the  machinery  back  of  the 
lights  and  each  one  might  have  been  a 
bright  bead  slipping  down  an  inclined 
string. 

At  first  the  clock  was  companionable; 
later  it  jeered  at  the  loneliness  of  the 
apartment  and  became  so  deliberate  that 
Molly  braced  her  nerves  for  the  sharp 
pound  of  each  tick. 

After  a  while  she  put  away  the  din- 
ner uneaten  and  cleaned  up  the  kit- 
chen, getting  things  ready  for  a  hasty 
luncheon  when  Philip  should  come  in. 
He  would  surely  be  hungry  because  al- 
ways before  when  he  had  skipped  a 
meal  at  home  and  eaten  somewhere 
else  he  had  telephoned  and  dismissed 
her  for  the  night.  Because  he  had  not 
telephoned  she  was  sure  that  this  time 


260  MOLLY  AND  I 

he  would  be  expecting  something  to  eat 
at  home. 

So  she  resumed  her  seat  at  the  win- 
dow and  patiently  counted  the  slow  foot- 
steps of  tune  that  seemed  somehow  to 
be  dragging  Philip  farther  and  farther 
away. 

An  inquisitive  sun  found  her  there  in 
the  morning,  huddled  up  in  the  chair 
where  she  had  fallen  asleep. 

She  awakened  with  a  sensation  of  numb- 
ness from  sleeping  in  her  clothes.  The 
room  was  stuffy  and  strangely  silent. 

Uncle  Sam  must  have  come  in  while  she 
was  asleep  and  gone  to  bed  without 
waking  her.  Then  a  recollection  of  Uncle 
Sam's  kindness  made  her  doubt.  If  he 
had  come  in,  he  would  have  picked  her 
up,  put  her  in  his  own  bed  and  slept  in  the 
chair  himself.  She  blushed  as  she  thought 
of  how  he  had  done  that  on  the  night  of 
her  first  arrival  at  the  apartment. 


SUDDENLY  BECOMES  LONELY  261 

She  tip-toed  to  the  bedroom  and  looked 
in.  It  had  not  been  occupied. 

With  the  clutch  of  fear  at  her  heart  she 
turned  back. 

There  was  a  click  of  a  key  being  inserted 
in  the  outer  door. 

He  was  coming! 

Molly  steadied  herself  so  as  not  to  let 
him  see  how  upset  she  was. 

The  door  opened  and  Mrs.  Sutherland 
came  in,  —  alone.  The  two  women 
stared  at  each  other  across  the  table. 
Both  were  haggard,  neither  was  as  care- 
fully dressed  as  usual.  The  older  woman's 
features  sagged  a  little  as  if  she  had  not 
quite  the  strength  to  hold  them  up. 

"Well,"  asked  Molly,  "where  is  he?" 

"He's  hurt,"  Marian  explained  briefly. 
"The  automobile  ran  into  a  motor  bus." 

"Will  he  die?"  Molly  moistened  her 
lips. 

"Not  if  care  and  my  prayers  can  pull 


262  MOLLY  AND  I 

him  through."  Marian  uttered  this  de- 
fiantly. "They  took  him  to  the  hospital. 
He  is  sleeping  now  for  the  first  time,  and 
I  came  over  to  get  some  of  his  things  and 
to  tell  you." 

There  was  a  thoughtful  pause. 

"He  wants  me  to  close  up  the  place  and 
get  another  position  for  you."  Marian 
made  this  statement  at  the  prompting 
of  a  wildly  fluttering  heart  that  kept 
assuring  her  that  "all  is  fair  in  love  and 
war." 

"Yes,"  assented  Molly  dully.  "Itdoesn't 
matter  about  me." 

"Later,"  added  Marian,  "he  may  want 
you  to  come  back.  At  present  he  can't 
afford  to  keep  you  and  I  will  take  care  of 
him  because  —  because  — ' 

"Because  you  love  him,"  supplied  Molly. 

"He  saved  my  life,"  Marian  explained 
simply. 

At   Marian's   suggestion   Molly   found 


SUDDENLY  BECOMES  LONELY  263 

a  few  things  Philip  would  require  and 
packed  them  in  a  grip  she  found  in 
his  room.  Then  she  stood  watching 
Marian  dully,  as  yet  not  comprehending 
the  catastrophe  that  had  befallen  her 
household. 

When  Marian  was  quite  ready  to  go  she 
addressed  Molly  once  more. 

"If  you'll  come  to  my  apartment  this 
afternoon  and  bring  your  key  I  will  see 
what  I  can  do  for  you.  Suppose  you  come 
at  three  o'clock." 

Involuntarily  as  one  does  in  making  an 
appointment  she  glanced  at  the  clock. 

"Why,"  she  exclaimed,  "  your  clock  has 
stopped!" 

"Yes."  Molly  knew  now  why  the  room 
had  seemed  so  lifeless  when  she  had 
wakened. 

Molly  got  her  hat  and  coat  from  the 
closet. 

"Wait,"  she  requested.     "I  will  give 


264  MOLLY  AND  I 

you  the  key  now.  I'd  rather  not  stay  here 
any  more." 

She  produced  a  key  from  her  purse  and 
handed  it  to  Marian. 

"There  was  no  money  left,"  she  an- 
swered, in  response  to  a  question  she 
thought  she  saw  in  Marian's  eye. 

"He  was  quite  poor  then?" 

"Dreadfully." 

Molly  hesitated  a  moment.  "There's 
one  other  thing,"  she  requested,  removing 
the  chamois  bag  from  her  neck.  "When 
Mr.  Smith  is  well,  quite  recovered,  not 
before,  will  you  give  him  this?  I  assure 
you  it  will  answer  any  questions  he  may 
ask  about  me." 

"Certainly."  Marian  took  the  bag  and 
held  it  curiously.  "But  someway  you 
don't  talk  like  a  German  peasant  girl  this 
morning.  Who  are  you?" 

Molly  shook  her  head.  "It  doesn't 
matter.  Good-bye.  I  hope  — " 


SUDDENLY  BECOMES  LONELY  265 

A  rising  sob  choked  her  speech  and  she 
opened  the  door  hastily  and  went  out. 
For  a  while  the  woman  she  had  left  in 
possession  of  the  apartment  could  hear  her 
walking  down  the  stairs. 

All  at  once  Marian  ran  to  the  top  of  the 
staircase  and  called,  "Molly,  Molly." 

The  footsteps  grew  fainter. 

She  rang  for  the  elevator  and  descended. 

She  looked  to  the  right  and  to  the  left. 
The  street  was  jammed  with  people  and 
fire-fighting  apparatus. 

The  building  across  the  way  was  suffer- 
ing from  a  false  alarm. 

And  Molly  was  lost  in  the  crowd. 


CHAPTER  XX 

AND   THEN  DESOLATE 

next  person  to  cross  the  threshold 
of  Philip's  apartment  was  Philip  him- 
self, and  the  event  did  not  occur  until  many 
weeks  afterward.  All  of  his  bones  were 
there,  as  one  could  tell  at  a  glance,  but 
nature  had  not  yet  had  time  to  do  any 
padding  or  decorating.  He  walked  un- 
certainly and  each  step  seemed  an  experi- 
ment with  unfamiliar  apparatus. 

He  had  proved  a  bad  patient,  uncom- 
plaining it  is  true,  but  chafing  at  restraint 
and  restless  to  get  back  to  work.  The 
fact  that  he  had  been  obliged  to  accept 
Marian's  generous  aid  worried  him  de- 
spite her  iteration  of  her  debt  to  him  for 
saving  her  life. 


AND  THEN  DESOLATE      267 

The  news  of  Molly's  departure  he  had 
accepted  without  comment.  He  had  not 
been  told  until  several  days  after  the  event 
and  his  mind  had  been  so  dulled  by  pain 
and  opiates  that  he  had  not  realized  very 
keenly  what  it  meant  to  him. 

Now  as  he  opened  the  door  and  gazed 
around  his  home  it  was  as  if  he  looked  at  a 
frame  from  which  the  picture  had  been 
taken.  The  air  was  still  and  dead  from 
endless  warming  over  by  steam  heat.  The 
table  was  set  but  the  glass  of  water  looked 
stale  and  had  bubbles  in  it.  He  turned  and 
faced  the  clock  and  as  he  gazed  at  its  dumb 
countenance  he  recalled  his  promise  to 
Molly  that  no  one  should  ever  wind  it  but 
herself. 

As  he  went  about  the  apartment  he 
couldn't  find  any  place  he  felt  at  home  in. 
He  discovered  that  suddenly  all  of  his 
own  belongings  had  become  merely  appur- 
tenances to  Molly,  and  without  her  they 


268  MOLLY  AND  I 

were  cheerless  and  dead.  It  was  like  ex- 
ploring the  ruins  of  a  house  unearthed  at 
Pompeii  with  everything  standing  just  as 
the  inhabitants  had  left  it  when  they 
stepped  out  into  the  street  a  couple  of 
thousand  years  ago  to  see  what  was 
happening  in  the  city. 

Jack  found  him  at  his  desk  studying  the 
first  reader.  The  artist  tactfully  made  no 
reference  to  Molly's  absence  but  asked 
Philip  to  come  out  to  luncheon  with  him. 
Philip  pretended  to  enjoy  the  meal  very 
much,  carefully  concealing  from  his  friend 
the  fact  that  the  soup  tasted  like  dish 
water  and  the  coffee  was  bitter  as  gall.  It 
wasn't  the  fault  of  the  chef;  any  food 
would  have  tasted  that  way  unless  Molly 
had  prepared  it. 

They  discussed  Philip's  novel,  which  had 
been  accepted  during  his  illness.  Jack 
was  doing  the  illustrations  for  it,  which  was 
as  they  both  wished. 


AND  THEN  DESOLATE      269 

The  advance  royalty  Philip  had  re- 
ceived from  the  publisher  for  his  book  re- 
lieved the  financial  crisis  which  had  been 
impending  at  the  time  of  the  accident  and 
left  Philip  not  only  free  to  write  another 
novel  to  follow  up  his  first  if  it  should 
prove  successful,  but  also  to  reimburse 
Marian  for  the  expenses  of  his  illness. 

Jack  had  with  him  a  few  sketches  which 
he  wished  Philip  to  pass  on  before  he 
turned  them  over  to  the  publisher.  After 
luncheon  Philip  looked  them  over  silently. 

"Well,-  '  Jack  paused  expectantly, 
inviting  criticism  or  approval. 

"They're  corking,  Jack,"  Philip  replied, 
"only-" 

"Only  what?" 

"It  isn't  just  the  way  I  had  pictured  the 
girl.  I  daresay  I  shall  get  used  to  her  this 
way  and  like  her  better  after  a  bit." 

"It  isn't  necessary.  I'd  like  to  try 
again." 


270  MOLLY  AND  I 

"My  Lord,  Jack,  what's  that?"  Philip 
straightened  in  his  chair  and  listened 
intently. 

The  orchestra  had  started  to  play  softly 
a  simple  melody  that  would  hardly  engage 
the  mind  of  the  average  New  York  diner 
for  an  instant. 

Jack  listened.  He  knew  what  it  was. 
It  was  the  song  Molly  always  sang  about 
her  work.  But  Jack  was  helping  to  wean 
Philip  so  he  said,  "Why,  I  don't  know.  It 
sounds  like  something  from  that  new  opera 
at  the  Casino.  It's  by  a  foreign  composer, 
I  think." 

Philip  failed  to  get  back  into  his  mood 
for  writing.  His  rooms  became  intolerable 
to  him.  They  seemed  to  eject  him  auto- 
matically every  time  he  settled  down  to 
work.  Finally  he  decided  that  he  had  been 
spoiled  by  having  a  servant  and  he  visited 
a  number  of  employment  agencies  looking 
for  a  substitute  for  Molly.  After  he  had 


AND  THEN  DESOLATE      271 

looked  into  the  stolid  faces  of  the  appli- 
cants waiting  for  positions  in  those  places 
he  admitted  shamelessly  it  was  not  a 
servant  that  he  was  looking  for.  Molly 
alone  would  do  and  at  the  other  agencies 
he  inquired  if  they  had  on  their  books  any 
record  of  a  small,  blonde  person  answering 
to  his  departed  maid's  description. 

He  found  a  good  many  and  looking  them 
up  occupied  considerable  time.  Most 
of  them  turned  out  to  be  Scandinavian 
socialists  with  one-cylinder  minds  and 
double-opposed  feet. 

Then  he  put  a  personal  advertisement 
in  the  papers  and  was  surprised  at  the 
number  of  humorists  who  took  the  trouble 
to  answer  him  facetiously. 

It  was  no  use.  The  city  had  swallowed 
her  up  completely  and  had  doubtless  by 
this  time  digested  her  into  a  commonplace, 
typical  American  girl  of  the  lower  class. 

The  hurt  grew  duller,  though  it  still  per- 


272  MOLLY  AND   I 

sisted,  and  Philip  found  time  to  pay  part 
of  his  debt  of  gratitude  to  Marian  by  being 
nice  to  her.  He  was  still  pale  and  easily 
exhausted  and  he  often  sat  long  hours  in 
her  apartment,  sometimes  not  saying  much 
but  soothed  by  her  companionship.  Once 
or  twice  Marian  had  started  to  speak  of 
Molly  but  he  had  seemed  averse  to  the 
subject  and  afterwards  she  avoided  it. 

The  little  chamois  bag  lay  at  the  bottom 
of  a  drawer  in  Marian's  bedroom!  She 
assured  herself  occasionally  that  she  had 
forgotten  to  give  it  to  him  and  that  it  was 
better  for  him  not  to  be  reminded  of  a 
mistake  he  had  almost  made.  Anyway, 
and  this  was  the  last  argument  with  which 
she  bolstered  up  her  conduct,  all  was  fair 
in  love  and  war. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

IS  ANYTHING  AKIN  TO   LOVE? 

AT  last  Marian's  procedure  seemed  to 
have  its  effect.  Philip  practically  gave 
up  searching  for  Molly  and  unconsciously 
included  Marian  in  most  of  his  plans. 
When  not  working  he  either  looked  her 
up  and  took  her  somewhere  or  spent  his 
time  at  her  apartment  across  the  hall. 
Sometimes  Jack  was  in  the  party  but  more 
often  not. 

One  evening  he  dropped  in  at  twilight 
for  a  smoke  before  dinner. 

"I  was  going  to  give  a  birthday  party 
to-morrow  in  my  own  honor,"  he  stated, 
helping  himself  to  his  favorite  brand  of 
cigarettes,  which  she  always  kept  on  the 
mantel,  "but  Jack  has  a  previous  engage- 


274  MOLLY  AND   I 

merit  so  I  guess  we'll  have  to  call  off  our 
celebration." 

"Why?"  She  stepped  close  to  him  and 
took  hold  of  the  lapels  of  his  coat.  "I 
haven't  any  previous  engagement.  I 
never  have,  —  since  I've  known  you." 

"I  didn't  suppose  you  would  care  to 
have  a  celebration  without  Jack." 

"It  isn't  Jack  who  makes  it  a  celebra- 
tion for  me."  She  bored  her  fingers 
through  the  buttonholes  of  his  coat  and 
looked  down.  Then  all  at  once  she  raised 
her  eyes,  great,  deep  dark  pools  glistening 
with  tears  just  unshed.  "Oh  Phil,  please 
be  very  nice  to  me  because  I  am  awfully 
lonely  and  you  can  be  so  nice  sometimes." 

"Thank  you,"  said  he,  smiling  and 
taking  her  hands.  "Then  we'll  have  the 
party  to-morrow  anyway.  Shall  we  dine 
at  the  Plaza  and  go  to  the  opera  or  eat  at 
Churchill's  and  go  to  Hammerstein's?" 

"That's  more  like  yourself."    She  patted 


IS  ANYTHING  AKIN  TO  LOVE?  275 

his  hand  gaily  and  released  it.  "I  don't 
care  what  we  do  as  long  as  I  am  with  you." 

Philip  lit  his  cigarette  and  then  glanced 
at  her  with  sudden  comprehension.  "  Ma- 
rian," he  said,  "you  and  I  are  great  pals, 
aren't  we?" 

She  regarded  him  steadily  and  seriously. 
"Yes,  I  care  a  great  deal  about  you. 
More  than  I  should,  I  suspect.  Every 
other  man  I  ever  met  I  wanted  to  have  give 
up  something  for  me,  but  I  feel  now  as  if  I 
wanted  to  give  up  something  for  you." 
She  broke  off  suddenly,  then  continued, 
"I'm  very  foolish  to  let  you  know  this, 
but  even  if  you  didn't  care  a  bit  about  me 
I'd  have  to  tell  you  that  if  there  should 
ever  come  a  time  when  I  should  not  be 
able  to  see  you  I  shouldn't  know  whether 
the  sun  was  shining  or  not,  or  if  the  birds 
came  back  in  the  spring,  —  personally  I 
don't  believe  they  would,  —  or  if  there 
were  ever  any  more  fresh  apple-blossoms 


276  MOLLY  AND   I 

in  the  orchards  or  violets  in  the  woods, 
and  if  you  were  gone,  all  the  music  in  the 
world  would  be  frozen  up  like  a  tiny  little 
brook  in  winter." 

She  turned  her  back  to  him  suddenly  so 
that  he  could  not  see  her  face. 

He  walked  the  length  of  the  tiny  apart- 
ment and  looked  out  into  the  gray-black 
streets,  chill  in  the  dusk  of  a  tired  city. 
She  came  to  his  side. 

"Marian,"  Philip  began,  strangely 
moved  by  the  genuineness  of  the  emotion, 
"you're  one  of  the  sweetest  women  I  ever 
knew.  There's  something  that  I've  had 
on  the  tip  of  my  tongue  to  tell  you  for  a 
long  time." 

Somewhere  out  in  the  street  a  beggar 
violinist  attempted  to  stay  the  current 
of  the  home-bound  throng  with  a  plain- 
tive melody.  The  people  in  the  street 
hesitated  not  at  all  but  as  it  floated  faintly 
up  to  the  window  the  melody  awakened  a 


IS  ANYTHING  AKIN  TO  LOVE?  277 

drowsy  memory  that  Philip  had  been  tell- 
ing himself  over  and  over  again  was  dead. 
And  the  memory  tugged  gently  at  his 
heart-strings  with  a  little,  wistful,  apolo- 
getic sort  of  pull  as  if  it  hated  to  bother 
him  just  then  but  just  couldn't  help  ask- 
ing if  he  noticed  that  fellow  in  the  street 
there  playing  the  song  that  Molly  used  to 
sing. 

Philip  turned  uncertainly  toward  Marian 
and  took  her  hands. 

"But  I  can't  tell  you  now,  even,"  he 
said.  "Will  it  be  all  right  if  I  tell  you 
to-morrow,  after  our  party?" 

She  drew  both  his  hands  up  to  her 
cheeks  and  rested  her  face  in  his  palms. 
Then  she  kissed  first  one  and  then  the 
other  and  lowered  them  gently  again. 

"I'll  let  you  go,  because  I  want  to  do 
everything  all  the  rest  of  my  life  just  as 
you  wish  it  done,  even  if  it  is  saying  good- 
bye sometime  and  letting  you  go  forever. 


278  MOLLY  AND   I 

Here,  so  that  you  won't  forget,  you  must 
wear  my  rose."  She  took  a  red  bud  from 
her  waist  and  put  it  in  his  buttonhole. 
"Now  go  and  be  as  gentle  with  me  in  your 
thoughts  as  you  can." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

A    MAN'S   IDEAL  is   SHATTERED;    AND  A 
WOMAN'S  HEART 


^PHE  beggar  musician  in  the  street  was 
still  playing  when  Philip  came  out  of 
the  building,  but  he  had  changed  his  tune 
to  the  latest  opus  of  the  celebrated  Mr. 
Berlin  and  was  attracting  a  few  nickels 
into  the  hat  which  was  placed  suggestively 
on  the  ground  before  him.  He  was  a 
young  fellow,  from  a  warmer  country 
than  ours,  as  evidenced  by  a  swarthy  com- 
plexion and  a  certain  abandon  about  his 
style  of  dressing  for  the  winter.  He  un- 
questionably had  a  knowledge  of  music 
beyond  most  itinerant  fiddlers  and  the 
way  he  handled  a  bow  would  have  de- 
lighted Signor  Campanini. 


280  MOLLY  AND  I 

When  he  had  finished  the  rag-time 
selection,  Philip  introduced  himself  by 
contributing  half  a  dollar. 

"A  thousand  thanks,"  smiled  the  musi- 
cian. "You  like  some  more  rag-time." 
He  raised  his  bow  with  a  flourish. 

"No,"  Philip  restrained  him.  "Could 
you  repeat  the  melody  you  played  just 
before  the  last  one?" 

"Si."  The  boy  looked  at  him  with  a  quick 
smile  of  gratitude.  "This,  you  mean?" 

Softly,  insinuatingly,  he  drew  the  simple, 
plaintive,  little  air  out  of  his  violin,  which 
it  seemed  almost  reluctant  to  leave,  so 
shy  and  unassuming  it  was. 

For  Philip  every  stroke  of  the  bow  filled 
in  the  picture  of  a  small  but  efficient  blonde 
young  person,  dressed  in  an  absurdly  large, 
plaid,  kitchen  apron,  with  an  expression  of 
serious  attention  to  business,  singing  softly 
to  herself  as  she  bent  over  her  work. 

When  the  musician  had  finished  Philip 


A   MAN'S  IDEAL  281 

thanked  him  and  was  about  to  turn  away 
when  he  stopped  to  ask  casually,  "Do  you 
know  the  name  of  it?" 

"Si  —  yes.  It's  one  French  chanson 
by  Chaminade.  In  French  it  is  called 
'L'Anneau  d' Argent.*  That  comes  it  out 
in  English  'The  Silver  Ring/" 

"  'The  Silver  Ring! ' "  That  was  curious, 
thought  Philip,  as  he  turned  homeward. 

It  was  not  a  melody  that  would  ordi- 
narily be  popular  with  a  large  mass  of 
the  public.  It  was  French,  too.  Strange 
that  Molly  should  have  picked  it  up. 
She  would  never  have  heard  it  in  New 
York.  Probably  it  was  a  reminiscence 
of  her  life  before  she  came  to  him.  It 
didn't  matter. 

Nothing  about  Molly  mattered  if  he 
were  going  to  marry  Marian  and  there  was 
no  reason  why  he  shouldn't  marry  her 
and  be  very  happy.  Surely  it  would  be 
foolish  to  go  on  moping  the  rest  of  his  life 


282  MOLLY  AND  I 

because  of  a  servant  girl  whom  he  would 
never  see  again. 

He  stopped  at  a  restaurant  and  ate  a 
perfunctory  meal. 

When  he  got  back  to  his  apartment  he 
found  that  Jack  had  been  there  and  left  a 
drawing  which  he  had  shoved  under  the 
hall  door. 

A  note  accompanied  the  sketch : 

Dear  Phil:- 

This  is  my  new  idea  for  a  frontispiece  for 
your  book.  You  remember  you  said  you  did 
not  like  the  other  one  I  drew.  I  am  not  sure 
but  I  think  this  one  will  come  nearer  to  meet- 
ing with  your  approval. 

Hastily, 

Jack. 

Philip  turned  back  the  paper  flap  which 
protected  it  from  rubbing  and  looked  into 
the  timid,  pleading  eyes  of  Molly,  dressed 
as  she  was  that  night  when  she  had  come 
to  him  out  of  the  rain. 


A  MAN'S  IDEAL  283 

With  a  dumb,  dull  hurt  in  his  eyes  he 
placed  it  upright  on  his  desk. 

His  heart  protested  that  it  wasn't  fair 
for  him  to  ask  it  to  keep  on  forgetting  a 
person  and  then  to  have  continual  remin- 
ders of  that  person  flaunted  before  it. 
You  couldn't  expect  a  really  hard  heart 
to  withstand  shocks  like  that  and  with  a 
soft,  wabbly  one  like  his  own  it  was  out 
of  the  question.  "Are  we  or  are  we  not 
going  to  forget  her?"  his  heart  demanded 
crossly,  beating  very  fast  and  climbing 
up  in  his  throat  because  it  knew  that  made 
him  uncomfortable.  "Are  we?" 

"We  can't,"  the  man  answered  simply, 
and  dropped  his  head  on  his  arms  to  shut 
out  the  sight  of  her  as  she  stood  in  front 
of  him  on  his  desk,  her  eyes  repeating  over 
and  over  the  words  that  he  would  never 
again  hear  from  her  lips ;  "  Choo  —  choo  — 
choo,  Uncle  Sam,  I  love  you." 

He  was  bent  over  like  that  when  Marian 


284  MOLLY  AND   I 

opened  the  door  softly  and  tip-toed  up 
behind  him.  In  her  eyes  was  a  look  of 
tenderness  and  pity  and  she  was  about  to 
reach  out  and  touch  his  hair  when  she 
saw  the  picture  on  his  desk  before  him. 

A  look  of  unearthly  pain  crossed  her 
features  and  she  stood  for  a  moment 
scarcely  breathing  while  the  soul  of  her 
sickened  and  died. 

Then  as  silently  as  she  had  come  she 
reached  the  door  and  went  out. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

A   VAMPIRE   TURNS   OUT   TO   BE   ONLY  A 
WOMAN 


following  day  in  the  mail  came  a 
small  parcel  and  a  letter  from  Marian. 
Wondering,  he  opened  the  letter  first.  It 
was  rather  unusual  of  Marian  to  write. 
It  was  her  custom  when  she  had  anything 
to  say  to  him  to  run  in  for  a  few  moments 
or  to  call  him  up  on  the  telephone.  The 
letter  ran: 

My  dear  Mr.  Smith:  —  (Rather  formal, 
thought  Philip,  but  read  on.)  Please  consider 
everything  that  passed  between  us  as  a  joke. 
Am  called  away  suddenly  for  a  few  weeks  so  if 
I  don't  see  you  again,  good-bye.  I  am  sending 
you  by  this  mail  a  small  package  which  Molly 
gave  me  to  give  to  you.  She  said  you  would 
understand  and  because  I  was  selfish  I  did 


286  MOLLY.  AND   I 

not  do  it  and  I  shall  probably  regret,  all  the 
rest  of  my  life,  that  I  have  finally  done  as  she 
requested.  Yours, 

Marian. 

"Now  what  the  deuce  does  she  mean 
by  that?"  thought  Philip,  as  he  untied  the 
string  of  the  small  accompanying  parcel. 
"It  sounds  as  if  she  were  sore  about 
something." 

After  the  wrappings  came  away  there 
lay  in  his  hand  a  small  chamois  bag  which 
he  recognized  as  the  one  which  Molly  had 
worn  around  her  neck.  Apathetically 
he  opened  it  and  held  it  upside  down  in 
his  hand.  Into  his  palm  dropped  the 
curious  Chinese  good  luck  ring  that  he 
had  given  to  his  wife  on  his  wedding  day. 

Stunned  he  sat  slowly  absorbing  the 
significance  of  that  ring  in  the  possession 
of  Molly.  What  a  fool  he  had  been  not 
to  see  through  her  masquerade  in  the  first 
place!  How  she  must  have  laughed  at 


ONLY  A  WOMAN  287 

the  way  .she  had  tricked  him!  What  a 
lark  for  a  woman  of  wealth  to  dress  up  and 
act  as  an  emigrant  girl  for  a  little  time  and 
then  when  the  amusement  palled  to  go 
back  to  her  accustomed  luxurious  mode  of 
life!  Molly  was  dead  forever.  True,  a 
woman  lived  who  spoke  with  her  voice 
and  doubtless  walked  as  she  did  but  the 
spirit  had  fled.  Molly  with  a  million 
dollars  was  not  Molly.  The  real  Molly 
had  existed  only  in  his  own  imagination. 

His  first  sensations  were  those  of  blind 
anger.  A  man  hates  to  be  fooled,  especially 
by  one  he  cares  a  good  deal  about. 
It  was  in  this  mood  that  he  wrote  to 
her. 

My  dear  Mrs.  Smith:  — 

I  wish  to  offer  belated  congratulations  on 
your  ability  as  an  actress.  I  paid  you  the 
sincere  tribute  of  being  convinced  by  it.  Now 
that  the  comedy  is  over  there  is  no  reason  for 
delaying  longer  about  the  divorce,  is  there? 


288  MOLLY  AND  I 

I  want  to  feel  sure  that  the  next  woman  I 
meet  is  not  my  wife.  I  have  several  things  of 
yours,  some  solid  silver,  a  first  reader,  a 
clock  and  a  complete  peasant  costume  in- 
cluding wooden-soled  shoes.  May  I  send  them 
to  you  or,  if  you  would  prefer  that  I  should 
not  know  your  real  address,  will  you  have  your 
footman  call  for  them?  (You  have  a  foot- 
man, of  course.)  I  will  leave  the  key  with  the 
hall-boy  for  him  and  will  leave  your  things  so 
they  can  be  easily  found. 

I  know  you  will  find  the  costume  and  prop- 
erties useful  in  your  future  relation  with  the 
gentleman  who  was  looking  for  the  North 
Pole  when  we  first  met.  I  trust  he  is  as 
easily  entertained  as 

Yours  sincerely, 
Philip  Smith. 

He  addressed  it  in  care  of  Doctor  Allen. 

Several  hours  after  he  mailed  it  he 
began  to  regret  the  sarcastic  tone  of 
his  letter.  After  all  what  right  had  he 
to  scold  a  person  who  was  nearly  a  stran- 


ONLY  A  WOMAN  289 

ger,  because  he  had  happened  to  fair  in 
love  with  her?  She  had  not  asked  him 
to  do  that,  probably  did  not  know  that 
he  had.  On  the  credit  side  of  her  account 
there  certainly  stood  the  salvage  of  his 
life  when  he  had  considered  it  worthless, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  restoration  of  his 
eyesight.  She  had  made  his  future  pos- 
sible. Surely  she  had  a  right  to  do  what 
she  wanted  to  with  it.  If  playing  tricks 
was  her  idea  of  amusement  he  owed  it  to 
her  to  be  a  complaisant  subject. 

He  decided  that  in  the  morning  he  would 
go  to  Doctor  Allen's  office  before  he  had 
any  opportunity  to  forward  the  letter  to  his 
wife  and  reclaim  it.  He  could  ask  the 
doctor  to  notify  her  of  his  desires  in  the 
divorce  matter  without  letting  her  know 
that  he  was  hurt.  An  annulment  of  their 
marriage  would  be  easily  obtained  and  they 
could  both  be  free.  Decidedly  that  would 
be  better  than  to  let  her  get  the  letter. 


290  MOLLY  AND  I 

The  next  morning  Philip  called  up  a 
storage  warehouse  and  van  company  and 
asked  them  to  send  a  man  to  give  him  an 
estimate  on  moving  his  few  belongings. 
His  apartment  was  too  full  of  uneasy 
memories  for  him  to  be  able  to  work  there 
longer  in  peace.  He  would  go  to  a  board- 
ing-house or  a  small  family  hotel  in  the 
neighborhood,  any  place  where  he  would 
not  be  continually  reminded  of  Molly. 

Before  he"  left  the  building  to  go  to 
Doctor  Allen's  office  for  the  purpose  of  re- 
trieving his  hasty  letter,  he  deposited  his 
key  with  Louie,  the  hall-boy,  and  instructed 
him  to  show  the  warehouse  man  his  be- 
longings if  he  should  arrive  during  his 
absence. 

Half  an  hour  or  so  later  a  simply  tailored 
young  woman,  rather  small  and  quite  pale, 
with  great,  big,  pleading  eyes,  approached 
the  hall-boy's  desk  and-  asked  if  Mr. 
Smith  were  in. 


ONLY  A  WOMAN  291 

Louie  glanced  at  her  casually  then 
jumped  out  of  his  chair  as  if  he  had  been 
jabbed  with  a  hat-pin. 

"Molly!"  he  shouted,  then  looked  again 
doubtfully.  "Is  it  Molly?" 

"Yes,  Louie,  it's  Molly." 

"Gee,  you've  learned  to  be  an  American 
awful  fast.  I'm  awful  glad  you're  back. 
Maybe  Mr.  Smith  won't  be  glad  too.  He 
looks  awful  sick,  but  your  cooking  will  fix 
him  up  again.  You  look  sort  of  like  he 
does  youself,  —  like  nothing  agreed  with 
you.  You've  been  sick,  too,  ain't  you?" 

"No,  Louie,"  she  answered,  listlessly. 
"I'm  all  right.  If  Mr.  Smith  is  home  I 
wish  you  would  go  up  and  ask  him  to  give 
you  my  things.  Only  please  don't  tell 
him  I'm  down  here.  Tell  him  a  footman 
in  a  fine  white  livery  called  for  them." 

"He  ain't  here."  Louie  looked  in  the 
drawer  for  Philip's  key.  "He  left  his  key, 
though,  and  you  can  go  up  yourself  and 


292  MOLLY  AND  I 

find  your  stuff."  He  held  the  key  out  to 
Molly. 

"He  might  come  back  while  I  was  in  his 
apartment."  Molly  looked  at  the  key 
dubiously.  "  I  would  really  rather  not  see 
him." 

"That's  all  right,"  the  boy  assured  her, 
leading  the  way  to  the  elevator;  "he  won't 
be  back  for  quite  a  while,  he  said.  I'll 
open  the  door  for  you  myself."  Then  as 
an  afterthought  he  invited,  "  Come  on  and 
ride  in  the  elevator.  Nobody  would  ever 
know  you  was  a  servant.  You  look  lots 
sweller  than  some  of  the  ladies  that  lives 
here." 

"Thank  you,  Louie."  Molly  rewarded 
him  with  a  smile, "  I  should  like  to  ride  in  the 
elevator  very  much  as  I  am  quite  tired." 

Louie  unlocked  Philip's  door  and  ad- 
mitted Molly. 

"Gee,  look  at  the  picture  of  you  he's 
got." 


ONLY   A  WOMAN  293 

For  a  moment  Molly's  heart  stood  still 
when  she  realized  where  her  picture  stood, 
directly  in  front  of  Philip's  chair;  then  her 
reason  assured  her  that  it  was  coincidence. 
If  he  had  remembered  her  enough  to  honor 
her  picture  thus  intentionally,  he  would 
have  sent  her  the  ring  and  asked  her  to 
come  back. 

"It  looks  almost  exactly  like  you," 
commented  Louie,  "only  it  ain't  quite 
as  pretty."  He  went  to  the  door  and  fussed 
with  the  spring  lock.  "I'll  fix  the  latch 
on  the  door  so  it  don't  lock  and  when  you 
come  down  again  you  can  change  it  back. 
I'll  see  you  again  before  you  go." 

When  she  was  alone  Molly  let  her  eyes 
slowly  travel  over  the  various  things  in 
the  room.  The  table  was  set  for  one, 
even  to  a  glass  of  water,  but  there  were 
bubbles  in  the  water  and  a  rose  in  a  vase 
on  the  table  had  dropped  its  petals  in  a  cir- 
cle on  the  cloth.  An  apron  lay  across  the 


294  MOLLY  AND  I 

back  of  a  chair.  She  had  placed  it  there 
when  she  left.  She  turned  to  the  mantel- 
piece. The  clock  was  piteously  silent  and 
the  hands  stood  where  they  had  halted 
on  the  night  when  Philip  did  not  come 
home. 

With  a  sigh  she  turned  and  began  to 
pick  up  the  silver  and  things  which  Philip 
had  requested  her  to  take  away. 

At  last  she  had  everything.  After  a 
final  look  around  she  closed  the  door  after 
her.  As  she  did  so  the  door  of  the  apart- 
ment opposite  opened  and  from  it  issued 
Mrs.  Sutherland  in  a  travelling  costume, 
carrying  a  small  grip.  She  stood  face  to 
face  with  Molly. 

"Oh,"  she  gasped.  "I  didn't  know  you 
were  here." 

"No,  I  suppose  not,"  replied  Molly, 
coolly,  "but  I'm  just  going  so  it  doesn't 
matter."  She  started  for  the  elevator. 

Marian  called  after  her,  "Molly." 


ONLY  A  WOMAN  295 

Molly  turned.  "Mrs.  Philip  Smith,  if 
you  please  -  "  she  corrected,  icily. 

Marian  stood  as  if  frozen  while  she 
straightened  things  out  in  her  mind.  At 
last  she  spoke  slowly,  "I  don't  quite  under- 
stand everything  but  I  think  I  have  an 
inkling.  Will  you  explain  one  thing?" 

"If  I  can,"  Molly  replied,  patiently. 

"Why,"  asked  Marian,  "didn't  Mr. 
Smith  recognize  you  in  Molly?" 

"He  had  never  seen  me  before,  at  least 
since  I've  grdwn  up.  When  we  were 
married  he  was  blind.  Now  unless  there 
is  something  else  I  can  explain  to  you  I 
will  leave  you  in  full  possession  of  the  field 
and  my  husband." 

As  she  pressed  the  button  for  the  eleva- 
tor Marian  stopped  her.  "Mrs.  Smith." 

Molly  answered  pleasantly,  "Well,  Mrs. 
Sutherland?" 

"You  don't  like  me  very  well,  do  you, 
Mrs.  Smith?" 


296  MOLLY  AND   I 

• 

"Why,  certainly,"  Molly  said,  slowly,  "I 
like  you  fully  as  well  as  I  do  most  people 
on  short  acquaintance." 

"Nevertheless,"  insisted  the  older 
woman,  "I  feel  that  you  have  an  idea 
that  I  am  not  your  friend.  On  the 
contrary  I  am  very  anxious  to  do  you 
a  service.  There  is  something  I  have 
to  say  to  you  before  you  go.  It's 
rather  difficult  for  me  to  do.  It's  about 
Mr.  Smith." 

" Oh !    Are  congratulations  in  order?  " 

"No.  You  are  entirely  mistaken.  So 
was  I  until  yesterday.  And  I  didn't  play 
fair  until  yesterday.  I  did  not  give  him 
the  chamois  bag  you  had  left  for  him  with 
the  ring  in  it.  Oh  yes,  I  looked,  but  I 
never  understood  what  it  meant,  before. 
I  thought  I  could  make  him  forget  you, 
—  that's  why  I  let  you  go  away  in  the  first 
place.  But  yesterday  I  found  out  that 
there  was  no  room  for  me  in  his  heart 


'If  you  ever  discover  that  you  don't  care  for  him  so  much, 
oh,  please,  please,  send  him  to  me." 


ONLY  A  WOMAN  297 

because  even  the  memory  of  you  had 
crowded  everything  else  out." 

Molly  started  to  speak  but  Marian 
silenced  her  with  a  gesture  and  continued. 
'You  must  believe  that  what  I  say  is  true. 
If  it  were  not  so,  if  I  even  thought  there 
was  a  chance  for  me,  I  would  never  tell 
you  this.  I  am  selfish  and  I  need  him  more 
than  you  do,  but  I  want  him  to  be  happy. 
It  is  no  easy  thing  for  a  woman  to  give  up 
the  man  she  cares  for  to  the  woman  he  loves. 
I  don't  think  there  is  anything  more  I 
can  say.  I  am  the  one  who  is  going  away." 

The  elevator  cable  creaked  noisily  as 
the  car  rose. 

Marian  went  to  the  shaft  herself  and,  as 
she  stood  waiting,  turned  back  and  said 
with  a  break  in  her  voice,  "  If  you  ever  dis- 
cover that  you  don't  care  for  him  so  much, 
-  oh,  please,  please,  send  him  to  me." 

The  elevator  door  opened  and  she 
stepped  in. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 


"PVOCTOR  Allen,  the  celebrated  eye  and 
ear  specialist,  shared  a  suite  of  offices 
with  several  other  physicians  and  they 
all  contributed  toward  the  salaries  of  two 
young  women  who  were  called  stenog- 
raphers but  who  in  reality  performed 
many  and  varied  duties,  ranging  from 
expert  accounting  to  assisting  as  nurses  in 
delicate  operations.  One  of  them  wTas 
large  and  heavy,  with  big,  strong  hands, 
and  the  other  was  quite  small  and  light 
both  in  weight  and  complexion.  But  her 
slender  fingers  were  just  as  capable  as  those 
of  the  big  one  and  together  they  formed 
an  invaluable  adjunct  to  the  medical 
expert  whom  they  served. 


A  GENTLEMAN  LEARNS    299 

It  was  the  tall  one  who  was  in  the  re- 
ception room  when  Philip  arrived  and  she 
took  his  card  in  to  Doctor  Allen  who  in- 
vited him  in  at  once. 

"  No  more  trouble  with  the  eyes,  I  hope," 
the  doctor  said,  after  he  had  greeted  his 
friend  and  former  patient. 

"None  at  all,  I'm  glad  to  say,"  Philip 
responded.  "I  came  to  you  this  time 
with  another  kind  of  trouble.  Have  you 
that  letter  handy  that  I  sent  in  your  care 
to  be  forwarded  to  my  wife?" 

"A  letter?  To  your  wife?"  Doctor  Allen 
knitted  his  brows  uncomprehendingly.  "I 
don't  believe  I  know  anything  about  this." 

"I  mailed  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Philip  Smith 
last  night,  addressed  in  care  of  this  office, 
with  a  request  to  forward.  I  am  very 
anxious  to  get  it  back." 

"I  see."  The  doctor  pressed  a  push 
button  on  his  desk.  "One  of  the  stenog- 
raphers always  attends  to  the  mail  so  I 


300  MOLLY  AND  I 

didn't  see  it.  I  wouldn't  know  where  to 
forward  it  if  I  had." 

The  young  woman  from  the  outer  office 
entered. 

"Louise,"  asked  the  doctor,  "was  there 
a  letter  in  the  mail  this  morning  addressed 
to  'Mrs.  Philip  Smith'  in  care  of  me?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

Philip  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"Bring  it  in  please,"  the  doctor  directed. 

"I  haven't  it.  Mary  took  it  and  said 
she  would  attend  to  forwarding  it." 

"Oh,  then  ask  Mary  to  bring  it  in." 

"I'm  sorry  but  Mary  went  out  half  an 
hour  ago  and  hasn't  come  back  yet.  She 
seemed  terribly  upset  about  something." 

"I'm  sorry.  She  hasn't  been  well  lately 
anyway.  That's  all,  Louise.  Let  me  know 
when  Mary  returns." 

He  turned  back  to  Philip.  "We  have 
two  stenographers  and  Mary,  the  one  who 
has  your  letter,  is  out.  She'll  be  back 


A  GENTLEMAN  LEARNS    301 

presently,  I'm  sure.  By  the  way,  I  didn't 
know  that  you  were  married." 

"Didn't  know  I  was  married?"  Philip 
repeated  blankly.  "Why,  I  married  your 
own  ward." 

"My  ward?  I  haven't  any  ward." 
The  doctor  looked  anxiously  at  the  pupil 
of  Philip's  eye  as  if  he  expected  to  discover 
symptoms  of  insanity.  "Have  you  got  a 
fever,  Philip?" 

"No,  of  course  not."  He  brushed  the 
doctor's  solicitude  impatiently  aside.  "I 
certainly  married  a  girl  who  said  she  was 
your  ward.  It  was  the  day  I  was  in  your 
office  when  I  was  first  blind,  do  you  re- 
member? She  said  she  had  to  be  married 
by  the  next  day  or  lose  all  her  fortune  so 
I  went  through  the  ceremony  with  her 
just  to  be  obliging.  Later  she  wrote  me  a 
letter  from  your  office  here  saying  she  was 
getting  a  divorce." 

"This  is  all  wild  talk,"  the  doctor  replied, 


302  MOLLY  AND  I 

/ 

in  a  soothing  tone.  "It  isn't  like  real  life  a 
bit.  It  sounds  like  the  plot  of  a  story." 

"I'll  tell  you  how  real  it  is,"  Philip 
stated  firmly, "  it's  so  real  that  this  girl,  who- 
ever she  is,  gave  me  a  thousand  dollars  to 
go  to  Switzerland  and  save  my  eyes." 

"Gave  you  a  thousand  dollars!"  ex- 
claimed the  doctor.  "Why,  I  was  the  one 
who  sent  you  a  thousand  dollars." 

"No,  no,"  insisted  Philip  politely. 
"Don't  you  remember,  you  offered  it  to 
me  right  here  in  this  office  but  I  refused  it." 

"I  know  you  did,  here,  but  after  you 
left  my  stenographer  said  she  thought  she 
knew  a  way  to  make  you  take  it  and  she 
went  after  you.  She  had  some  foolish 
idea  in  her  head  that  you  were  going  to 
commit  suicide.  When  she  came  back 
she  had  you  all  fixed  up  and  on  the  way 
to  Europe." 

"Oh!"  Philip  sat  as  if  stunned.  "Is 
this  girl  of  yours  by  any  chance  a  rather 


A  GENTLEMAN  LEARNS    303 

small,  blonde  sort  of  person  with  big 
eyes,  who  can  cook  better  than  anyone 
else  in  the  world?" 

Doctor  Allen  laughed.  "I  don't  know 
whether  she  can  cook  or  not  but  she's  the 
best  assistant  I  ever  had.  Otherwise  you 
have  described  her." 

"Is  there  a  scar  on  her  cheek  something 
like  a  dimple?" 

"Why,  yes,  although  you  don't  notice  it 
after  you  know  her." 

"And  is  she  very  rich,  the  heiress  of  an 
eccentric  aunt?" 

"I'm  afraid  not.  She  may  have  some 
money  saved  up  from  her  salary  but  not 
much  because  she  laid  off  quite  a  while 
this  winter.  Anything  she  has  she  earned 
herself,  I'm  pretty  sure." 

Philip  rose  from  his  chair. 

"I  want  to  see  that  stenographer  of 
yours,  and  I'll  wait  in  the  outer  office 
until  she  comes  in." 


304  MOLLY  AND   I 

The  door  opened  and  Louise  came  in 
with  a  memorandum. 

"Mary  just  called  up,"  she  announced. 
"  She  said  to  tell  you  that  she  isn't  coming 
back  and  that  she  wishes  to  resign  for 
good.  She  says  she  has  gone  home  to  her 
own  family." 

Philip's  heart  smote  him.  That  letter! 
It  had  crushed  the  spirit  of  the  poor  girl. 
He  must  find  her  and  make  reparation. 

"Where  is  her  home?"  he  demanded, 
fiercely.  "Where  does  her  family  live?" 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  the  girl. 

"Neither  do  I,"  said  Doctor  Allen.  "I 
always  supposed  she  was  an  orphan." 

"If  she  comes  back,"  directed  Philip  on 
his  way  to  the  door,  "  tell  her  to  wait  here 
for  me." 

"Where  are  you  going?"  the  doctor 
queried  mildly. 

"I  don't  know,  but  I'm  going  to  find 
my  wife  if  it  takes  the  rest  of  my  life." 


CHAPTER  XXV 

A  BACHELOR  APARTMENT  BECOMES  THE 
HOME  OF  A  FAMILY 

TENDING  a  blonde  in  New  York  where 
they  sell  peroxide  so  cheaply  is  more 
easily  said  than  done.  Philip  visited  all 
the  railroad  stations  and  boat  docks  in  a 
vain  search  for  Molly,  or  Mary  or  Mrs. 
Philip  Smith.  He  forgot  about  lunch  and 
business  apointments  and  spent  money  on 
taxi-cabs  as  if  advance  royalties  would  last 
forever. 

At  dusk,  tired  and  discouraged,  he  found 
himself  in  the  neighborhood  of  his  own 
apartment  and  he  went  home  for  a  change 
of  linen. 

"Did  the  man  from  the  storage  ware- 
house come  while  I  was  away?"  he  asked 
of  the  hall-boy,  as  he  stopped  for  his  key. 


306  MOLLY  AND  I 

"The  guy  is  up  there  now,"  replied  Louie, 
who  seemed  bubbling  over  with  unaccus- 
tomed good  spirits.  "Just  walk  right  in." 

His  door  was  standing  ajar  and  the  lights 
were  lit  inside.  The  living-room  was 
empty  but  there  was  someone  stirring 
about  in  the  kitchenette.  Probably  it  was 
the  moving-van  man. 

"Hello,  there,"  called  Philip. 

From  the  kitchenette  entered  a  man 
wearing  a  badge  which  proclaimed  him 
an  appraiser  for  a  warehouse  and  van 
company. 

"Are  you  Mr.  Smith?"  he  asked 
pleasantly. 

"Yes." 

The  man  handed  him  a  list  of  articles 
of  furniture  and  household  goods.  "Is 
this  correct?  Is  that  the  stuff  you  want 
moved?" 

Philip  glanced  down  the  list. 

"One  desk.     Correct."    He  glanced  at 


THE  HOME  OF  A  FAMILY    307 

his  desk.  "Who  has  been  picking  up  my 
manuscripts?"  he  demanded,  as  he  opened 
a  drawer.  "Oh,  it's  all  right.  They've 
been  put  away  in  the  right  place.  One 
chair.  O.  K.  One  clock  — " 

He  faced  the  mantel  and  stood  with  his 
speech  unfinished. 

"Tell  me,  man,"  he  said,  grabbing  the 
appraiser  by  the  arm,  "is  that  clock 
going?" 

"It  is.  Can't  you  hear  it?  It  makes 
more  noise  than  a  blacksmith  shop." 

Philip  listened.  It  certainly  was  tick- 
ing, and  in  the  hush  one  other  sound  rose 
on  the  air.  Someone  was  singing  out  in  the 
kitchenette,  —  singing  "The  Silver  Ring." 

Without  a  word  Philip  took  the  man 
from  the  warehouse  and  van  company  by 
the  arm,  led  him  gently  to  the  door  and 
outside.  There  he  fished  a  five-dollar  bill 
from  his  pocket  and  gave  it  to  the  man. 

"Here,"   he    whispered,    "go    out    on 


308  MOLLY  AND  I 

Broadway  and  Forty-second  street,  — 
that's  about  four  miles  from  here,  —  and 
buy  yourself  a  cigar." 

The  man  was  mystified  but  willing  to  be 
agreeable.  "Then  what  shall  I  do?" 

"I  don't  care.  You  might  go  to  the 
Montauk  Theater  over  in  Brooklyn  and 
see  a  show  and  after  that  take  a  boat  to 
Albany.  It  doesn't  matter  as  long  as  you 
never  come  back." 

Leaving  the  amazed  man  clutching  the 
five-dollar  bill  and  muttering  words  of 
thanks  Philip  closed  the  door  and  went  to 
his  desk. 

He  sat  down,  got  out  some  paper  and  a 
pencil  and  started  writing.  After  he  had 
covered  a  page  or  so,  he  tapped  the  bell 
which  stood  at  his  right  hand  and  went  on 
with  his  work. 

In  the  kitchenette  the  singing  stopped 
as  if  the  singer  had  been  suddenly  shot. 
There  was  a  short,  breathless  pause  and 


THE  HOME  OF  A  FAMILY    309 

then  came  the  clatter  of  wooden  shoes 
across  the  floor  into  the  living-room.  The 
noise  ceased  somewhere  back  of  him  a 
little  to  one  side. 

Philip  did  not  look  up  but  wrote  on  to 
the  end  of  the  page. 

"Molly,"  he  said  sternly,  without  turn- 
ing. 

"Did  you  want  me,  Uncle  Sam?" 

His  words  sounded  hoarse  and  far 
away  but  he  still  looked  at  the  paper  be- 
fore him.  "Yes,  Molly,  I  want  you  more 
than  anything  else  in  all  the  world.  What 
have  you  to  say  to  that?" 

"Uncle  Sam,  I  love  you."  And  then,  as 
he  turned  blindly  to  find  her,  a  voice  with 
laughter  and  tears  in  it  all  mixed  up  so 
that  nobody  could  ever  sort  them  out 
again  came  from  the  little  figure  kneeling 
at  his  feet. 

"  I'm  not  way  up  there,  I'm  down  here." 

Philip  leaned  down,  picked  his  wife  up 


310  MOLLY  AND  I 

and  placed  her  cosily  on  his  knee.  Then 
he  fished  with  a  hooked  forefinger  into  his 
waistcoat  pocket  and  extracted  a  curious, 
age-tarnished  ring  of  silver,  bearing  in 
place  of  a  seal  the  fantastic  device  indi- 
cating the  Celestial  idea  of  the  words 
"Good  Fortune."  He  took  Molly's  little 
soft  white  hand,  placed  the  ring  on  the 
proper  finger,  and  fastened  it  there  for- 
ever with  a  kiss. 

Molly  looked  at  the  ring  a  full  half 
minute,  and  she  too  kissed  it.  Then  she 
turned  her  lovely,  brimming  eyes  up  to  her 
husband's  face.  Her  arms  slid  around 
his  neck  and  she  nestled  close.  On  the 
mantel  an  ornate  clock  tried  hard  to 
attract  attention  by  striking  loudly  — 
but  neither  Molly  nor  Philip  heard  it. 

THE   END 


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